Ocean Soul
by Scifiroots
Summary: REVISED & COMPLETE - Jan. 2008. AU When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the Interceptor to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow
1. One

Ocean Soul

**Part** 1 of 18  
**By** Clarity Scifiroots  
Standard**disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.  
**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.  
**Pairing**: Jack/Will  
**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.  
**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such  
**Re-edited**: July 10, 2006

**One**

The fires of the forge rumbled their comforting song as Will worked the bellows, raising the temperature of the intense flames. Sweat trickled down his face, stinging his already watery eyes and irritating an open scrape on his cheek. It was before dawn and he was going through his daily routine – a schedule he had followed for a long seven years.

Behind the smithy lay the house where he slept, far be it for him to call that place home. It was his uncle's house, located in the New World establishment of Port Royale. He wiped sweat from his face with the aid of a dirty sleeve and stepped back to sit on a low stool beside the hearth. His fingers fumbled beneath his opened shirt to grasp onto the keepsake from his mother. He couldn't see it without taking it off, but he had memorized the tiny portrait of his mother in the gold locket. Words had been engraved opposite the portrait although they had long since faded – he'd rubbed it so many times since her death years past.

His hand fell away from the necklace and he looked down at his poor attire. Wearily he touched his sunken stomach and traced the lines of his visible ribs with his eyes. He'd not been allowed a decent meal for a very long time. He was required to work in the shop for all hours humanly possible to fill the orders his uncle received. He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw in anger. He received no praise or acknowledgement for his work.

The door leading back toward the house shook with someone's weight landing against it. Jumping up, Will scurried to the bellows again, heart pounding fiercely in his chest with fear. The still open scrape on his face felt as if it were bleeding anew and the bruise on his jaw suddenly ached. He wasn't ready for another attack, couldn't afford it if he was to finish his duties on time.

Finally the door opened and a drunken man made his way into the shop, eyes rolling in his head as he searched out the youth. "That be enough, whelp," the man snapped, "burn it 'otter and there'll be not'in' t' work wit'."

Will held back his anger but couldn't resist a curt retort. "If you worry about that, why don't you work yourself?" he demanded.

Within seconds his heart leapt to his throat as he was pushed back against the ledge near the furnace with a white-hot poker bare inches from his face. "Tis best t' get back t' yer work, laddie, a'fore I decide 't unnecessary t' let ye keep tha' pre'y face o' yers."

Slowly the poker retreated and was returned to the fire. The man stood up straight, his dark features ugly with the promise of pain. He lifted a dark eyebrow at the youth. "Wha'd ye decide, Will?" His fingers danced back to the warm handle of the poker.

Ashamed, Will scrambled to his feet and managed to whisper between gritted teeth, "I'm to go about my work, sir."

"Thar's a good lad." His uncle callously patted the his tangled hair before staggering off to a corner of the shop where a table and chair were set beside a cabinet of alcohol.

Will watched the man, his eyes filled with hatred, yet he was helpless to do anything. Law had bound him to the man until the youth turned twenty-one, still two years off. As he set about his work, he silently cursed the ship that had found him and "saved" him.

A pirate's raid had completely destroyed the ship Mrs. Turner and her young son sailed on. They had been traveling in search of the boy's father and Will had been so excited by the sea and the proceedings of the ship. He could still remember his mother's gentle laughter and her polite embarrassment as he harassed the crew in the way only children can – seeking to know all he could about the ship and how she was handled.

He could also remember drifting in and out of consciousness, body freezing from the waves of the sea, and then being lifted by strong arms – sailor's arms. When he had been able to open his eyes, even just slightly, he had seen a pretty young girl, younger than he, and she had looked at him with awe and worry.

It had been a British naval ship, carrying the new governor and his daughter to a settlement in the New World. Why Port Royale? he had wondered in the many years to follow. He had stayed at the governor's own home for a little less than a week as he recovered. His first day out to search out the city, under the guide of the governor, his daughter (Elizabeth), and two soldiers, a man had approached and put on a great performance of shock. To Will's knowledge, he'd never had an uncle in the New World. His mother's two brothers both lived in Europe, one inheriting the family business as a successful merchant and the other had married into a wealthy Austrian family.

Nevertheless, his uncle had claimed to know the heritage of the boy's looks, looking much like his dear sister – whom he openly mourned for upon discovering her recent passing. At that point in time, William had been so overwhelmed, unsure what to think of the strange man. He had loved the time spent in the governor's house and enjoyed the company of Elizabeth. His young mind had picked up a sense of callousness in the man, but he did not know at that time how to analyze what he sensed. All too late he began to understand.

William brought the hammer down with a loud clang upon the metal he was fashioning into a sword, wielding his anger with the tools he used. He cursed the drunken man dozing in the corner and cursed his ability to quickly learn new skills; his uncle had been greedily drawn to this ability as he adapted swiftly to the trade. He cursed again the ship that had taken him to Port Royale, his personal hell, cursed the agreement that bound him to his uncle's house, and cursed his "pretty" looks that drew unwanted attention and threats from his uncle that chilled his soul.

With a final strike he yelled, "Damn it!"

He finished, panting slightly, due far more to the tension in his body rather than his work. Despite how he hated his situation, Will was in love with the work he did. There was something in fashioning such beautiful crafts that enchanted him the same way the sea and ships had so long ago. He only wished that his skill would be acknowledged – by anyone – and that he could work under his own name, with orders directed straight to him. When he delivered packages he had to bite his tongue when regards were sent back to his "master." The word was vile as poison and it had never passed his lips.

It was midday, judging by the slant of sun beams passing through cracks in the wooden walls of the shop, but he didn't have any reason to stop. There was no food waiting for him, and he had no money to purchase his own. His stomach had long since stopped vying for his attention; his body knew it was pointless. Resigned, he set aside the finished sword and began work on another.

A few hours had passed when he was startled from his work by the sound of a door shutting. He looked up, laying his tools aside. His cousin stood a few feet within the door, wearing a smirk that made William shudder inside.

"Your father's passed out over there," he said flatly, hand returning to rest on the hammer he had been using.

His cousin stopped him by coming forward and speaking, "Tha's no' who I seek and y' know i'." His dirty teeth showed beneath spread lips in a smile that was more like a snarl. William wrinkled his nose in disgust, but his cousin pressed. "C'mon, pre'y boy. I'm sure he's had y' workin' since a'fore dawn. Why no' release some o' tha' tension?" Will was unable to dodge as an unwanted hand snaked out to capture his wrist and another came to rest on his hip, inching slightly inwards.

"Get your hands off me," he whispered harshly. He hated his uncle, he hated his treatment, and he hated Jonathan most of all.

"No." The smirk was far too triumphant on Jon's face. Will reacted, raising his free hand, hammer still clutched, but his cousin was swifter and dealt a well placed blow to his stomach and released the hand he had formerly clutched.

Will dropped to the ground, gasping painfully as he clutched his empty stomach with both arms. Before he could recover, Jon dealt a swift kick to his side, causing him to roll over onto his back. Will struggled to sit up, but Jon was over him again, straddling his stomach, and his strong hands rearranged Will's arms to be pinned beneath his own back.

"Get off me!"

"Afraid y' migh' have a bi' of fun?" Jon laughed, slapping the face beneath him carelessly before proceeding to undo the ties of his breeches. William struggled, fear and embarrassed frustration kicking in as soon as he picked up on his cousin's intentions. Unfortunately, Jon merely moaned contently, tilting his head back with a blissful expression on his face.

"Oh, please continue, i's so much fun when y' resist." He leaned over, arms out to brace himself as he rubbed his partially-clothed groin on Will's sweat-slicked chest.

Appalled, the younger man turned his head aside to avoid breathing the foul exhale of the body above him and stilled his motions. Jon didn't seem to much care, still sliding along Will's torso, panting heavily like a rutting pig. Will held his breath and screwed his eyes shut, disgust overwhelming him and bile rising in the back of his throat.

Jon's slid sleekly from naval to nipple. The weight shifted and Will soon discovered why when thick fingers began to pinch the circular nubs of flesh on his chest. He was ashamed that they were half-perked in arousal that lay beneath the intensity of his hatred. In a sudden swell of self-loathing, he spat into Jon's face, glaring fiercely at the surprised look.

His cousin's expression flickered to anger, then to cruel amusement as the spittle slipped from his face and back onto Will's cheek. "Y' migh' wan' t' check yer aim, _cos'_."

Will turned his head away, face screwed up in an expression of revulsion as John picked up his pace again, moaning loudly as he left trails of pre-come across the younger man's chest. It wasn't long until the disgusting pig emptied himself across Will's prone body. The blacksmith did his best to still shuddering breaths of mortification and frustration.

Jon stood up after a moment of rest and refastened his breeches. He kicked the Will's ribs harshly and spat on him. "Back t' work, whelp!" he sneered before striding out of the shop.

For long moments, Will just lay there, eyes still shut, body shuddering. Vomit rose in his throat until he had to spit to get the taste from his mouth. As his facial muscles moved, he felt the sticky resistance of semen. He shuddered again and a burning sensation built beneath his temples.

-----

"I have your delivery, sir," Will said to Governor Swann. He wore a decent set of clothes he was given to wear only when he went to deliver the masterfully crafted swords to the purchasers. He felt stuffy in the clothes, so unused to his skin being that fully covered, but he had been glad of it when he had caught sight of Jonathan that morning.

Governor Swann took the sword and studied it with an approving eye. He handed it back to Will to put it away in its case and said, "Pass along my appreciation to your master."

Will felt himself tense, and he just barely managed to keep the bitterness from his voice when he murmured, "A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is satisfactory…"

"Will!"

He looked up from the sword's casing and watched as Elizabeth descended the stairs with a smile on her face. "It's been such a long time! Why don't you visit more often?"

Her father chuckled a bit from surprise, "My dear, I'm sure he's far too busy... It isn't quite proper for –"

"I trust this is the gift for the new Commodore?" the girl asked, ignoring her father as she ran her fingertips over the hilt of the sword.

A ghost of a smile crossed Will's lips. "Aye... she took some time to make, but she will serve him well."

Elizabeth was standing close because of her study of the sword and when she looked up, they were bare inches from one another. Will watched her, feeling a longing in his heart for her gentleness and compassion. Her eyebrows drew together and he was stunned to find her gloved fingers trailing the scab on his face and caressing the bruises – new and old – on his cheek.

"Elizabeth!"

Her father's almost strangled cry brought Will to his senses and he backed up a pace. Elizabeth appeared distressed, her lips parted and tilting downward in a frown. Her beautiful eyes were filled with worry, and her hand still remained in the air.

"My dear, we should really leave," the Governor stepped beside her, casting a disapproving frown at his daughter and then a warning gaze a Will.

The blacksmith bowed slightly. "I have other work to do as well." He forced his lips into another faint smile, still unnerved by the girl's boldness and obvious worry. "Another time, perhaps, Miss Swann."

"Elizabeth, call me Elizabeth, please," she begged him quietly, something deep and imploring lingering in her eyes.

"I'm afraid that wouldn't be right, Miss Swann," he told her with a hint of a real smile in his eyes. "Good day."

"Good day," the Governor returned as Will left. "Really, my dear, your behavior around that boy must improve."

"Papa, didn't you see the bruises on his face?" she worried as they made their way to the carriage waiting outside.

"Likely from his work, my dear."

Elizabeth frowned at him. "It doesn't seem that way to me. The placement fits if he had been attacked."

"How would you know such things?" Governor Swann asked with amusement in his voice. "Even if that is the case, it proves that his guardian doesn't keep a good enough eye on the boy, and he has fallen into the bad habit of pub brawling."

Elizabeth shook her head but did not respond, knowing that the conversation was going nowhere. The boy she once knew looked so gaunt – the clothes he wore hung loosely about him, and he had seemed haunted. He had been frozen when she touched him, as if he wasn't used to any physical contact like that – which guaranteed he didn't yet have a lady-love. It was hard to think that the present-day William Turner could look so much worse than when she had first seen him when sailors had pulled him, half-drowned, from the ocean.

She worried the inside of her bottom lip with her teeth. From the carriage's window, she watched the passing scenery as they approached the fort. Maybe after the ceremony was over she could slip away to visit her old friend; she'd not been to the blacksmith's shop for years.

-----TBC-----


	2. Two

Ocean Soul

**Part** 2 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Re-edited January 16, 2008_

**Two**

Will was determined to avoid returning to the shop for as long as possible. He could deal with whatever punishment his uncle dealt for being late; he wanted to keep away from Jon as long as he could.

The docks were reasonably busy with ships unloading their wares or restocking before journeying out. There were enough nooks and crannies that he could slip into and hide for a time if anyone came looking for him. He looked longingly on the haul of the _Ocean's Gem_, a supply ship that visited every few years along with dozens of others. He had tried once to gain passage, offering a wide variety of services and showing off his slightly developed skills with sea travel. In fact, he'd tried a few times to gain voyage on various ships, but all required that he have a letter from the Governor stating that he was free to leave – and that would require a signature from his "guardian," which Will hadn't figured out a way to get around.

Muffling a sigh, he moved on towards what appeared to be a deserted dock. As he neared, he heard voices, disproving his first assumption.

"Li' ah said, no _real_ ship can outrun her."

Will's curiosity piqued as he heard scrambling feet and protesting shouts. He walked slowly towards the commotion and stood in the shadows, studying the scene before him. Two soldiers appeared on board of the _Interceptor_ with their guns raised high towards a curious character standing posed at the ship's wheel.

The sun's bright light made it hard for Will to see details of the man from his position, but he could make a few general observations. The stranger was either a drunk or a sailor, the blacksmith decided, for his appearance looked a little the worse for wear and his dark hair, held back by a red scarf and covered by a hat, was roped in dreadlocks. There were trinkets or something of the like in the man's hair, reflecting sunlight and making his facial features just barely visible to Will. The man's skin was a deep bronze – a sailor, then – and beneath his eyes were dark strokes of kohl. Yes, definitely a sailor of some sort yet not a respectable one – the outfit was all wrong.

It seemed that during his inspection of the curious man, the two soldiers had become doubtful of their initial reaction and lowered their guns, looking between themselves and the man at the helm.

He couldn't be sure what it was that first drew his attention away from the trio on deck. High up on the cliffs across the bay, from the direction of the fort, came the sound of someone shouting a familiar name. In a moment he realized that the object just about to hit the water was the perfect size for a person, and he thought he recognized the color of the dress… Elizabeth!

Driven by the sudden jolt of realization, he ran towards the end of the dock, fumbling to undo the buttons of his jacket as he did so. Without pause, he dived into the sea and swam towards the area where she had disappeared. A natural swimmer, he had practiced the sport for many a year prior coming to Port Royale. In his current life he found it to be one of his ways to withdraw from the world and find a semblance of peace.

He took a deep breath before diving down with eyes open against the stinging salt of the ocean, to reach for Elizabeth. Air bubbles trailed up from her parted lips. The sight of her closed eyes scared him. He wrapped one arm tightly about her waist and pulled her along. He made sure her head broke the surface when he took his own gulp of air, but too soon they were under again, the weight of water-logged clothes taking a toll on Will's swimming abilities.

"Ge' 'er out o' the dress, mate, 'n it'll be much easier," he heard a strange voice remark when he broke the surface again. Through stings of dripping hair over his eyes, he recognized the man as the stranger from the _Interceptor_. Feeling confused, he didn't notice the man's actions until soaking cloth wrapped around one of his arms.

"What are you doing!" he exclaimed, mortified that Elizabeth was being undressed by a strange man.

"Wan' t' save 'er, mate, keep yer peace."

Will had to admit, it was amazingly easy to bring Elizabeth along with him once the damned dress had sunk to the ocean floor. He reached the dock shortly after the stranger pulled himself out of the water. The two soldiers looked stunned, standing stock still with their eyes wide. The stranger muttered something beneath his breath before hauling the woman from Will's arms and bringing her up on deck.

"She's no' breathin'!" one of the soldier's exclaimed.

Will's heart raced in panic and he pulled himself up beside the stranger just as he brought out a knife and cut through a strange, pinkish article of clothing.

Almost immediately Elizabeth gasped for air and choked out water, her eyes fluttering open. Will stepped back and watched with worry. Soon enough her eyes focused and took in her surroundings. Her eyes first went to the stranger, still kneeling beside her, then found her friend. Questions lingered in her gaze, but before she could ask them a thunder of boots broke the otherwise quiet scene.

"Elizabeth! Oh, my dear, are you all right?"

"Elizabeth!"

William ran a hand over his hair, slicking back the strands that had fallen into his face.

"I'm all right, Father... Someone... saved me, I guess." Now covered with the Governor's coat, she turned her confused gaze back to the two wet men. Everyone else followed her stare.

"Don' look a' me, mates," the stranger smirked, "this 'ere lad jumped in after the lass."

Governor Swann slowly nodded his head in acknowledgement, too relieved to speak at the moment. The new Commodore, however, managed, "Thank you, Turner. Your actions are to be commended."

Will nodded almost imperceptivity as he murmured, "Yes, sir."

"Let's get you home, Elizabeth…"

The Governor and his daughter left and the soldiers, besides the two on duty, turned to leave as well. Commodore Norrington eyed the stranger distastefully before departing, but not before turning the same up-turned nose in Will's direction.

Will looked down at himself and realized that he didn't have many options now that his clothes were soaked. His lips set in a grim line of determination, he retrieved his jacket and made his way back towards the shop, sparing a glance back to see the stranger studying him with consideration, fingers twirling long, braided whiskers in thought.

-----

"Ye goo' fer no'in son o' a bitch." Will automatically moved to avoid the oncoming blow, taking the heavy punch meant for his nose on the jaw instead. He winced at the pain that raced through his muscles, the strike sending jolts of knife-stabbing soreness along his neck muscles and into his shoulder.

"Thar's work t' be done an' ye're ou' bein' lazy. They ough'er hang yer sorry arse." Will braced himself, but was unable to keep his balance as the momentum of a backhanded slap sent him stumbling towards the forge's hearth.

Will caught his breath in painful gasps, holding one hand over his left side – something radiated a sharp ache – while the other rested on the warm stones to keep him somewhat upright.

He wasn't prepared for the next attack. The only warning he had was the sudden wash of heat nearing his body, he turned, eyes wide when his gaze locked on white-hot metal.

His scream startled the dozing donkey in the corner of the shop and people nearby blinked in surprise, wondering where the sound had come from; yet no one came to check.

-----

Under the cover of darkness, a wraith-like figure slipped silently from the doorway beneath the blacksmith's symbol. His red-rimmed eyes stared blankly ahead. Behind him there was only a drunkard, an old ass, and an unconscious body, bleeding slightly from a strike to the temple.

'_No!'_ still rang through his body, as if he'd never stopped shouting. His chest ached and body continued to tremble from his exclamation and sudden reaction to the unwanted attention.

No reason to look back.

The streets remained silent and no one occupied the ones he traversed. An occasional patrolman came into view but he easily slipped into hiding before they saw him. He wouldn't allow anyone to see him. He had to get away, and he thought he finally knew how.

He had heard mention that supplies he had seen earlier that day were heading towards the docks to stock the _Interceptor_ for her upcoming voyage. The navy was confident enough that they posted no more than two guards at a time unless suspicious. Two were easy enough to dodge. Surely there would be some niche on the ship where he could stay hidden until it was too late for him to be returned to shore.

He would never come back. There was only the faintest sadness in his heart that he would not see Elizabeth again, but she was the _only_ bright point, too little to make him seriously reconsider. Not when the cloth of his shirt stuck to the ugly welt of a burn on his left shoulder. Not when the taste of someone else's spit still lingered in his mouth.

He left.

-----

TBC

-----


	3. Three

Ocean Soul

**Part** 3 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited January 16, 2008_

**Three**

Will roused himself from the depths of sleep upon hearing clumsy, heavy footsteps from the passage outside the storage room door. He frowned, his tired mind noting that naval soldiers didn't walk like that. Shaking his head in attempt to rid himself of some of his sleepiness, he brought himself up to rest on his good arm and look out from the crates and barrels behind which he had taken refuge. A portal window graced the room with pleasant sunlight.

He had picked his hiding spot in the dead of night by touch and sense of smell alone, recognizing that where he decided to sleep would be surrounded by military supplies of ammunition and the like – items not likely to be needed as the ship first set sail. Unfortunately, it also meant that there was nothing comfortable to cushion his sleep. Had his shirt not been stuck to the burn on his arm, he would have removed the piece of clothing for a pillow, at least. Even the smallest movement sent jolts of pain throughout his body. He rubbed his face tiredly after he forced himself to sit upright. His back rested against one of the ammunition crates and he stared out the small, round window at the sky. No more... he was no longer in the hell hole that he'd been dropped in so many years ago. He smiled.

Beside his hand lay the few belongings he decided to take on his journey: Two elegant swords, a stiletto, and a dagger, all fashioned by his skill, were wrapped carefully together in an old, worn leather hide. He hoped that if the need came, he could either sell the weaponry or use it to barter his continued passage. He brushed his fingertips over the small pouch he had tied to his belt last night, now laying by the weapons. Like his locket, he knew the contents by heart: a medallion keepsake from his father, an earring that Elizabeth thought she lost one day when they were visiting together, and two rings that his mother had passed into his keeping when they boarded their ship from England. One looked much like a man's wedding band. His mother had smiled sadly at him when he asked and shook her head.

He wondered what he had missed in his childlike innocence. He had no recollections of his father, for he had disappeared long before Will could clearly remember. His mother was very cryptic with details, and no one else in his grandfather's household said much about the absent Mr. Turner. Looking down at the pouch, he wondered if his father had abandoned them, just given up the family and any ties he once had. The thought raised a tight feeling of anger in his gut. It was a reasonable supposition, he realized, for it would explain the sadness always lingering in his mother's expressions, and the tears he occasionally saw her shed.

He didn't know why such thoughts suddenly plagued him. It hadn't been something he'd thought on much before, always too busy with his work and keeping himself alive. With an unknown father likely dead –or at least far away from Port Royale –and a deceased mother, it made no sense to linger on past mysteries that wouldn't do much good in the present.

His entire body ached and he clutched his stomach as a sharp pain bit him from the inside. No food. He closed his eyes and eased his breathing. He couldn't risk sneaking out yet, he reminded himself. There would be time, later. No soldier was so cruel as to let a person starve to death, right? He sighed as part of him snorted skeptically in response. Best to return to sleep in which only the darkness surrounded him. His exhaustion had gone on for so long that there was no room for dreams.

Will slid down to the floor again and curled up on his good side, stoically ignoring the blazing pain around the brand on his other arm.

-----

The next time he awoke was due to the fact that someone prodded him with the end of a long gun barrel. His vision blurred, not just from exhaustion – he had a sense that he had a fever, likely from infection in his open wound. Two faces looked down at him, dour frowns on both lips.

These weren't British soldiers…

He blinked a few times to clear his vision and looked again. The two figures didn't suddenly become soldiers; the man looked like some beggar, and the dark-skinned woman wasn't like any female he'd known; she wore a man's shirt and man's pants and a red bandanna tied around her head kept her hair tamed.

"Looks like we 'ave a stowaway, mate," the woman directed to her companion. The man just grunted, staring curiously down at Will.

A strange voice said, "Pillage and plunder!"

"Exactly," the woman responded.

Confused, William looked between the two and then caught sight of a brightly colored parrot shifting its weight from one foot to another on the edge of a nearby crate.

"Get yer ass up, boy," the woman commanded.

Slowly he obeyed, wincing slightly as his movements pulled at his aching shoulder. The man, he could see, was already holding his wrap of weapons and the pouch with his keepsakes.

"Don' try anythin' funny, now. Jus' come out real easy like and we'll see wha' th' cap'n 'as to say about yer stealin' away."

"It's not even your ship!" Will protested as he followed her orders, stepping in front of her and walking slowly as she prodded him with the gun again. She snorted softly in reply, apparently the only answer he'd get.

The little group passed through hold and up the hatch, onto the deck. The full attack of sunlight caused Will to raise a hand and shade his eyes to adjust. He hadn't been quite prepared for the situation laid out before him, even with the forewarning of the looks of the two people who had awoken him.

Somehow the _Interceptor_ had been stolen right from under the notice of the Royal British Navy. Who could have pulled off such a stunt? he wondered. His arrival on deck drew the attention of the entire crew. A strange mix, although all appeared to be as disreputable as he'd expect pirates to look.

"C'mon, boy, quit yer gawkin'. Cap'n's this way."

The man with the parrot moved in front of him, heading towards the door under the quarter deck and knocking a knobby fist against the wood.

"What'sit?" came an oddly familiar voice from inside. "Din' I tell you buggers t' leave me be?"

As Will pondered how he knew the voice, the woman stepped beside him and opened the door. "An' we found somethin' interestin' for ya."

"Ah, AnaMaria, my love, come in."

AnaMaria snorted in disgust and again used her gun to wave Will through the door. The man inside raised both eyebrows in surprise. Will's mouth fell open in shock as he recognized the man he had met the other day.

"Y-you!" he stuttered.

"Aye. I din' think you the type t' follow lil' ol' me. Wha' brings you aboard?" His eyes turned to the man behind Will and motioned him forward. "Whatcha got there, Cotton?"

Will gripped his hands in fists as the pirate captain accepted the weapons and pouch. The pirate ran a critical eye over the blades upon unwrapping the thick fabric. "Wha's a lad like you doin' with such sharp toys, eh?" He balanced one of the swords on his finger and nodded approvingly. He next drew out the stiletto and grinned. He looked up, met Will's stare for a moment, and suddenly flung the blade across the room.

Heart pounding rapidly in his chest, the blacksmith slowly turned wide eyes to find the blade buried into the wood not far behind him. He turned back, swallowing. The pirate's eyes narrowed with a smirk.

"Ge' back t' yer duties, mates. I'll decide what t' do with our lil' stowaway 'ere."

"Aye Cap'n," AnaMaria muttered, casting one last glare at Will before leaving with Cotton. The click of the shutting door sounded ominous to the young man's ears.

"Well, boy. Since we've run int' one 'nother again, I s'pose it's time fer introductions 'n the like." He tilted his head, a little smirk still decorating his features. "Capt'n Jack Sparrow; 'n yer name?"

He hesitated momentarily. "Will Turner," he said flatly, unsure what to think of his situation.

The pirate's eyes widened momentarily before his expression regained its nonchalance. "William. Named after yer father, I s'pose?" he inquired innocently, toying with Will's dagger.

"Yes. Why?"

"No reason, lad, none whatsoever." Sparrow grinned, a devilish look entering his eyes. "Now, le's talk plainly, shall we? I be feelin' generous, lettin' you share yer reasons fer being here, 'n all. It'd be far more fun t' see you walk off'a the plank, but you stayed undetected fer nigh three days, givin' yerself a bit o' a push on my admirin' list. Wha' you doin' on board, boy?"

William shifted his feet to have a better hold on his fading balance. His head ached terribly and his body was hot and sore. "Obviously I was hiding." The captain snorted. "...I was running away," he admitted reluctantly.

"From wha'?"

He frowned, averting his eyes from Sparrow's intense stare, "People."

"Hmm." Jack stroked his twin braided whiskers, catching Will's attention, something startlingly fascinating about that action... "Judgin' by yer state, I'd say these be mighty bad people, eh?" He didn't receive a response. He grinned knowingly. "Okay, boy. You wan'ned t' get away, then you picked the righ' ship t'. This be me pirate ship for the presen', and me, bein' the generous sor', will give you leave t' stay..." He paused dramatically; Will found it extraordinarily annoying.. "...As long as you follow the orders 'bout 'ere and pay your passage."

"I don't have any money—" Will started.

"Aye, but I've taken a likin' t' these blades o' yers. Then thar's wha's in 'ere purse and you've still 'ave a body, aye?"

Will took a step back, bracing himself. "What do you mean?" he asked sharply.

Sparrow studied him with consideration. He finally nodded to himself, as if confirming some earlier suspicion. "I 'aven't a cabin boy, mate, an' the skill tain't much." He bared his teeth in a condescending grin. "A'course you should be able t' handle somethin' so simple." Will swallowed back a retort. It wouldn't be that bad...

"Wha' say you, 'ave we an accord?"

Will studied the strange man, eyes raking over the unique hair and the layers of weathered clothes. He looked far less dirty than the other members of the crew (with the exception of AnaMaria) and seemed just with the decision... But one thing, "Will I be able to get my belongings back?"

Jack raised an inquiring eyebrow at him, tossing the pouch from one hand to another. "Le's see jus' wha's in 'ere 'fore I decide, eh?" Will held his tongue as the captain pulled open the pouch and spilled its contents on his desk. The rings went rolling and Will feared they'd be lost, but Jack skillfully caught them up in one hand. With a triumphant smile, he placed them on a bare finger and winked at Will. "Yer hands dun' need such pretties. Wha's this? A lady's earring? You like t' be a woman?"

A strange expression fell over the captain's face as he hesitantly touched the glittering medallion. His dark eyes slowly lifted to meet Will's as he murmured, "Where'd ye get this, whelp?"

The nickname cut through his tenuous control over the nausea brewing in his anxious stomach; Will clutched an arm around his belly and clapped his hand over his lips as the bile escaped into his mouth.

"No' in me cabin!" Jack cried, jumping forward and pushing the boy out the door.

Will stumbled to the deck on his knees and wretched the thin, sour taste from his mouth. He noticed specks of blood, since there was nothing left in his stomach to turn out. He heard footsteps running towards him and then a firm, slender hand touched his forehead. "Blimey!" AnaMaria. "The lad's got a blazin' fever!"

His body trembled weakly as he tried to escape her touch. He hurt and wanted everyone to go away, leave him alone.

"Take 'im below and fix 'im up. Ee's no good like tha'." Will wanted to retort with a acerbic thank you, but couldn't manage any words as AnaMaria helped him to his feet and practically dragged him to the hatch. He let his head roll forward and closed his eyes, unable to put much effort in supporting himself.

-----

TBC

-----

Jack: Not in me cabin! Not in me cabin! flailing his arms

Will: OO turning green

Jack: Nooooooo!!!

Will: BLECH!

Jack: ;;;; miserable me cabin!

snickers


	4. Four

Ocean Soul

**Part** 4 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited January 16, 2008_

**Four**

"Cap'n..."

Jack didn't turn his gaze away from the unusual compass he held. His free hand directed the ship's wheel. "Aye, Master Gibbs?" he prompted after a few moments of prolonged silence.

The older, slightly plump man cleared his throat. "The lad don't look too good. Ee's barely got a stomach ta fill, thar's a nasty brand on 'is shoulder, an' ee's full a' bruises."

Sparrow snorted softly, glancing sidelong as his first mate. He muttered under his breath, "We'd do well to chop 'im int' bits 'n use 'im for fish bai'." Gibbs' eyes widened slightly. The captain chuckled heartily to cover his remotely serious suggestion. "Fix 'im up bes' you can 'n in a hurry. 'E's no' gettin' free passage on me ship. Don' waste all the supplies on the whelp, neither. No 'eavy meals 'fore 'e improves, savvy? I don' wan' muck on me decks."

"Aye, Cap'n." As Gibbs turned to go, Jack reached a hand out to stop him.

Casually, eyes on the horizon, he murmured, "Pass the word 'round tha' no one's to be mentionin' Bootstrap. Savvy?"

"Aye, aye."

Left alone, Jack let his gaze follow his friend's back, a frown passing his lips. His hands itched to reach into his shirt and pull out the medallion of Aztec gold. No doubt about the boy's parentage, but his pirate heart refused to let any gentleness be spared. He was not the heartless, cold-blooded killer like his mutinous former first mate, but neither was he a charity-giver.

Besides, it seemed AnaMaria might develop a liking for the whelp, and the less Jack involved himself with her, the safer his prized face would be from her incessant bouts of violence. "Lass 'olds a grudge longer than anyone I know," he muttered to himself with some amusement.

-----

"'Ell, boy! When's th' last yeh ate?" AnaMaria asked with an indescribable look of disbelief on her face.

Will avoided her eyes, embarrassed at having instantly swallowed down a bowl of thin soup upon having it handed to him. "I don't quite remember," he mumbled, fingering the empty bowl longingly. The heat had gone straight to his belly and he could still feel the warmth. His stomach growled noisily, hungry now that it knew it could actually have food. The woman beside him laughed at his mortified expression.

"Don' worry, mate. We just 'ave t' start ya off slow or ye'll get sick." Dark hands curled around the bowl in his lap and drew it away. Will followed the movement, daring to meet the woman's eyes. She studied him impassively. "I'll be back. Yeh need new clothes. I'm sure some bugger's got somethin' ye can squirm int'." She turned to leave.

"Wait! Miss—"

"Don' be 'miss'-in' me, boy," she scolded.

"...I was just wondering what's going to happen?"

She offered him a dangerous smile. "Don' yeh fret yer pretty 'ead. Ol' Cap'n Jack ain' kickin' ye overboard withou' a scene from me."

Will let her leave in silence after that to considered her words. He looked around the sparse furnishings of the first mate's cabin and wondered at the lack of mess. Had a pirate stayed here before him? He gently prodded the bandages wrapped about his burned arm. AnaMaria and another pirate by the name of Gibbs had taken care of the wound, amazingly persistent even as he bucked and kicked as his shirt had been torn away and reopened the forming scab.

Now he was more than happy with the end results and hoped no further infection would plague him. He was flush from hairline to chest, hot with a mild fever and from exhaustion as a result overwork and malnutrition. Oddly enough, despite of their initial introduction the female pirate seemed determined to cure him of all ills. Whatever the reason, he felt grateful – even to the lousy captain who hadn't killed him the very instant their eyes met. At least he had a _chance_.

_It's more than I've had in a long while,_ he realized. The thought should have been remorseful or bitter, but wasn't. A sense of hope tingled in his gut, a feeling he hadn't realized could still burn brightly beneath all the hurt and abuse he'd put up with over the years.

Footsteps in the hallway signaled AnaMaria's return. His astute hearing could already pick up the difference of weight and balance of her footsteps, unique among a crew of men. She brought fresh clothes; it would be good to exchange his dirty pants for something new and less constricting. A shirt free of blood wouldn't be such a bad thing either.

-----

"Sorry, lad. Best ye rise quick 'fore th' Cap'n decides ta get ye up 'is way."

Will slowly opened his eyes, peering blearily at the face of Gibbs.

"What?" he asked around a yawn.

The older man eyed him with what seemed to be a disapproving look. "Yer ta work t'day an' ee's not gonna let ye off easy. Get up, now. AnaMaria's got a bit a' breakfast waitin'."

Will did as told, tossing off the blanket and sitting up to stretch. Gibbs motioned for him to pick up the pace. The blacksmith buttoned the front of his open shirt and, barefoot, followed after the pirate to eat before beginning his first day as cabin boy. His arm ached at the mere thought. He hid a wince, reminding himself that pirates weren't known for warm hearts.

-----

TBC

-----


	5. Five

Ocean Soul

**Part** 5 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited January 16, 2008_

**Five**

"Tha' arm's givin' yeh a bad time."

Will looked up at AnaMaria standing over him and said nothing. He knew he couldn't deny it, not when his right hand cradled the area just under the bandage of the opposite shoulder. She had her back to the sun, and he wished he could see her expression.

"Take a break, lad. I'll give yeh a peek of where we be weighin' anchor t'nigh'."

The blacksmith looked at the bucket of soapy water in front of him, prepared to protest for fear he might get in trouble. AnaMaria solved the dilemma with a swift kick – soapy water went flying and the empty bucket rolled along the deck.

"Now c'mon."

Resisting the urge to smile, Will followed the woman, keeping his head down to avoid meeting the gazes of any of the other pirates. So far he could only meet the stares of AnaMaria, Gibbs, and Cotton – the mute with the weird parrot. While he'd not had the problem of keeping the pirate captain's stare during their first meeting, after the events of their "proper" introduction he couldn't bear to meet those eyes for more than a few seconds.

"Take a look."

Will caught the spyglass thrown to him automatically. AnaMaria watched him with a look of amusement; he ignored her as he raised the spyglass to look through it.

"'Tis a half-decen' place. We'll be addin' t' supplies an' seek ou' news of the _Pearl_."

Will started and took the telescope away from his eye. "The _Black Pearl_?" he asked, astonished.

"Aye. Yeh 'aven't 'eard the crew mumblin' abou' it?" Will shook his head, still a little stunned. "Ah, well, 'tis a tale better told by th' cap'n or Mister Gibbs." She looked behind him, her brow creasing in annoyance at whatever she spotted.

Will turned and froze when he saw Jack standing at the top of the stairs leading to the forecastle deck where they stood.

"Chores finished so quick, luvs?" the captain inquired as he swaggered towards the pair.

"Oh, leave 'im be," AnaMaria scowled.

"Don' be scoldin' me, luv. Yer the ones slackin' off. Get goin'. No, you wait, whelp."

AnaMaria glared at Sparrow one last time before marching off. Will watched her go, wishing it would distract him from the anger and disgust that came along with the nickname.

"Well, I 'ave the feelin' that if she'd just leave you alone I'd 'ave meself a 'ard-wokin' cabin boy." Jack plucked the spyglass from Will's hands and used it to study the shoreline. "I'm 'fraid you'll be stayin' aboard whilst the crew ge's time ashore. Trus' 'n loyalty issues, that." The captain closed the telescope with a click and gave a charming, white-and-gold smile. "Bu', as long as you finish yer work for the day, I'll le' you 'ave the time free of duties, savvy?"

Will stayed silent with his continued indecision of what to think of the pirate captain. When Jack raised a brow in obvious question, he nodded shortly to acknowledge that he had heard.

"Then wha' ye waitin' for? Back to work!"

As Will turned away, a firm hand slapped his rump. Startled, he quickly whirled around, too late to catch whatever expression had passed through the pirate's gaze.

Suspicious, he kept part of his attention on Jack as he resumed his work.

-----

"Hey, boy!"

Will opened his eyes and sat up in bed, turning his gaze to his door. "Aye?" he asked tentatively, wondering what he was wanted for. As far as he knew, only two look-outs, the captain, and himself remained on board as the rest of the crew went ashore.

The door creaked open and the dwarf stepped through. "Capt'n wants y'."

Frowning, Will slipped his legs over the edge of the bed. Once they reached the main deck, the small man jerked a thumb towards the cabin under the quarter deck and walked off.

Why in the world would Sparrow call for him? Well, he supposed with nothing better for him to do and perhaps the right sort of prompting he could get the tale AnaMaria had hinted at earlier.

"Com'min, com'min!" came the slurred response to Will's rapping at the door. A slight frown still creasing his brow, he entered the captain's cabin and slowly shut the door as he took stock of the situation.

Jack reclined on the cushioned window bench with a bottle of rum in his left hand. His arm swung lazily back and forth beside him, provoking the sound of liquid sloshing against its glass cage. His right hand rested on his stomach when not engaged in erratic, occasional bursts of motion where he muttered something to himself and not needed for some grand gesticulation.

Will stood just inside the door, staring blankly at the obviously drunk pirate, not sure what he was doing there in the first place. He waited a few moments more during which Jack readjusted his hat with his right hand while bringing up the bottle of rum with the other. Hand still at his hat and bottle dropping back to his side, the captain seemed to notice Will's presence for the first time.

"Thar ya be! All ya Turners keep me wai'in' furever." He made some indistinct noise that Will didn't think was really supposed to be a word. "Fer Chris'sake, don' jus' stan' thar, boy! Co'mere."

Cautiously Will took a seat on the opposite side of the bench so that he could face the pirate captain.

"Why did you call for me?" he asked.

That question sparked a long session of Jack attempting to put Will into focus by scrunching one eye shut and opening the other wide, but no matter the adjustments he made, apparently the details wouldn't clear.

"I called ya, dinn'i..." He stroked his braided beard thoughtfully with that realization. "Now why I go 'n do a thin' li'e tha'...?"

Will sighed in frustration. He didn't particularly care for drunk company, but he found himself unable to be completely frustrated. In fact, he realized the muscles around his lips were trying to twitch up into a smile. Rather scandalized by that realization, he worked harder on controlling his expression and forced a frown on his face, considering the implications while Jack puzzled over his summons.

"Arg, 'oo cares!" Jack exclaimed, clearly giving up the headache-provoking thought process. "Why ya frownin' boy? Gawd, Bill nev'r look'd so severe. Ta'e a drink!"

As Will clumsily accepted the bottle passed to him, he peered curiously at the pirate, wondering if the man he had just been compared to was really—

He swallowed a large mouthful of rum and coughed harshly in reaction, then asked, "Did you know my father?"

Jack wriggled his fingers for the bottle and took a long swallow. Will's eyes narrowed, suddenly aware that the man would ignore the question. "Nothin' li'e a good bottle o' rum, eh, whelp?"

"Don't call me that," Will whispered harshly, averting his eyes in a mix of anger and fear.

Jack readjusted his hat and cleared his throat. "I' really bugs ya, eh?" Will didn't answer. "I cahn' very well stop callin' ya tha' wit'ou' good reason. Care t' share?"

Will didn't meet the captain's gaze. He pulled his knees to his chest and curled in on himself. The memories plagued him no matter how hard he tried to block them. Haltingly, voice laced with bitterness, he started to reveal the burdens of his past, if only to be free of the unbearable silence.

"The people I left... I don't think I could hate anyone more. I did my uncle's work. He took me in after the Governor's ship brought me to port." He barely noticed Jack fingering the dagger on his belt with a visible spark of understanding and new appreciation. "They hated me. I rarely ate. There were always orders to fill." He ran his fingers through his hair, only peripherally aware that he was trembling.

"Nothing was good enough. He was always drunk." Instinctively his hand hovered over the bandages hidden by his shirt sleeve. "No one cared. He'd shout and I was loud." His vision swam and he fought back the burn behind his eyes. "No one came," Will exhaled, his voice quaking. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

"An' he called you whelp?" In his current state, Will didn't register the fact that Sparrow sounded normal, although even then he seemed a little tipsy.

Will shook his head self-deprecatingly, quietly laughing. "Aye... like a dog."

A long pause ensued during which neither man moved but were conscious of the bitterness in the air.

Suddenly Will opened his eyes and met the darker gaze. The younger man's fiery eyes glistened with tears that would not fall. "He wanted to whore me! They said I was – " his lip curled in disgust and spat the next word out like a bite of rotten meat – "_pretty_."

His gaze dropped, but his muscles remained tensed. He shuddered at the knot of hatred and anger burning in his gut. He dragged roughly bitten nails over his face, leaving little streaks of red and white in their wake.

"I hate it," he whispered brokenly. "I want to be ugly. I did't want them to look! Don't look at me..." His words broke into a gasp, and the tears in his eyes refused to fall. Too many tears had been shed and while so many more needed to escape, Will was unable to unlock the barriers to let him break down that far.

-----

Two days after the _Interceptor_ set sail with new supplies, Gibbs regaled Will with the tale of the _Black Pearl_, including the details of why they were chasing her.

"…an' ever since ee's been after 'is mutinous crew. That one shot goes ta Barbossa."

Will paused momentarily in mending one of Jack's boots to squint up at Gibbs. The older pirate worked at a section of rigging.

"So to break the curse they need to collect all the Aztec gold? Do we know how many more pieces they have to find?"

Gibbs eyed him warily, taking a break from his work. Looking around, he gave a heavy sigh and then took a seat beside the young man. His gaze turned serious, and he lowered his voice. "They may be missin' only a single piece, lad." Will cast him a confused gaze. "An' _we_ 'ave it right on board."

Eyes rounded in surprise, he asked breathlessly, "Where? How?"

Gibbs snuck a peek towards the captain's cabins where Jack had been locked away since leaving port. "I ain't s'pose ta mention this, ye understand? Ye had something in yer possession, a gold medallion, aye?" Realization dawned; Will opened his mouth to argue, but Gibbs stopped him. "That's it, lad."

"But my father sent it to me! Why would it be part of the curse?"

Gibbs studied him seriously, a frown drawing his lips downward. Carefully, he said, "Yer father was part a' the _Pearl's_ crew."

It took a while for the words to sink in. When they did, Will shook his head vehemently. "No! My father wasn't a pirate, I would have known!"

"Would ye? I know yer mother came from a respectable family – would they want it to be known?" Will shook his head, still in disbelief. "Well, I told ye, at least. T'was comin' sooner or later, lad." He stood up and nodded towards Jack's quarters. "If ye want details, ee's the one who knew Bootstrap best."

Will repeated the nickname under his breath. Still shocked, he numbly went back to his work though the words kept him otherwise engaged.

-----

Gibbs fidgeted with the rigging even after he'd finished the repairs and took short glances at the boy from time to time, worrying over the effect the recent revelation would have on the lad. It seemed something else bothered both captain and cabin boy since the night at port, but there were no hints as to what exactly had happened.

Hearing a cabin door creak open, Gibbs turned his gaze towards the captain who had just made his appearance. Jack, hands on hips, searched the sky with a critical eye. Gibbs looked as well, knowing that his friend had a knack of sensing certain things before anyone else. A storm coming, likely; preparations would have to be made.

He reached into his shirt to pull out his beloved pouch of rum and swallowed a good mouthful before stuffing it back next to his skin. Mother Nature's storm and then to Isla de Muerta to wait for the _Pearl_ to come in and drop off the newest collection of treasure. He shuddered. Mother Nature would be a far easier foe to face than the crew of the damned.

-----

TBC...

-----


	6. Six

Ocean Soul

**Part** 6 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited: January 16, 2008_

**Six**

Will woke up, effectively ending one nightmare and entering another. The _Interceptor_ rolled unsteadily beneath him, and he had to clutch the edges of the small bed to convince himself that he wouldn't fall to the floor.

Obviously the storm had broken.

Whether he had simply been away from sea too long or never been in such a violent storm, Will decided that the current natural disaster must certainly be the worst act mother nature could throw at him. The noise overwhelmed his senses and he swore that his body vibrated with each crash of thunder. Anything not fastened down in the room went end-over-end each time the ship bobbed on the angry waves.

Will found his stomach wasn't quite as strong as he thought it was. Moaning softly, he curled on his side, fingers clenching into the bedclothes. No way would he go out on deck in a storm like this. He couldn't fathom how someone could even stand amidst the downpour and heavy gale.

The next boom of thunder made him tremble, triggering a memory of a lesser storm, but one serious enough to keep the English ship from outrunning the pirates giving case.

"_Curse the heavens! We don't seem to be in God's good grace today. Prepare the cannons!"_

"_Send the women and children below!"_

"_Capt'n—" this sailor's voice much quieter than the others "—that ship leaves no survivors. No matter yer above o' below."_

"_I'm aware of that, sailor." The captain's voice tensed with apprehensive. The aftereffects of the storm still lingered in the air, lightning bursting across the sky every now and again, accompanied by the fading boom of thunder._

"_William! Will! Come with me, quickly!"_

"_Mother, where are we going? The sailor said we wouldn't be safe anywhere. I should help fight to protect you!"_

"_Oh no, child... My dear, sweet, William." Amalie clutched her son to her chest and stroked the soft curls of his hair. Around them the crew rushed to prepare their defense as the pirate ship with black sails closed in. "Here, you must wear this. Keep it hidden! It's a secret we share alone, all right?"_

"_Mother…?" The child looked up in confusion as he held the trembling fingers of his mother's hands. She smiled weakly, tears in her eyes. She freed one of her hands and tucked the chain she had fastened around his neck down his shirt._

_He felt the coolness of the heavy medallion against his chest beside the lighter touch of a pair of rings. Why had she given these to him? She had told him before that he wouldn't get them until he was older, when she could tell the story of his father – hopefully after they had found him._

_The first of the cannon blasts rang out, louder than thunder and far more deadly. "Hurry! You must hide!"_

"_Mother!"_

He could remember little more than vague shapes and colors between that last exchange and the sudden coldness of ocean water as darkness crept over him. He couldn't remember how his mother died, only that he had screamed for her. He couldn't even recall how he had ended up in the water. The only clear memories were those moments of building apprehension and then the awakening on a strange vessel with a sweet girl looking over him with a inquisitive and concerned gaze.

"_My name's Elizabeth."_

"_W-Will Turner."_

"I'm watching over you, Will..." 

_His hand curled tightly around the medallion and rings his mother had left him – all he had to help him on the journey they had started together but he must continue alone._

-----

"Cap'n needs yeh for somethin', lad." Will glanced towards the helm where Jack turned control of the wheel to another pirate and made his way towards his personal quarters. "I ain' privy t' jus' wha' 'e wants," AnaMaria continued, fingers dancing over the hilt of her cutlass.

Feeling a little embarrassed as well as comforted by the woman's show of protection, Will quickly assured her, "I'll be all right. I can hold my own against him."

She grinned at him. "A good slap will ge' 'im every time," she advised. With a hearty clap to Will's back, she let him go.

Upon entering the cabin, Will said, "You wished to see me, Captain?"

Instead of the window bench like the other night, Jack lounged on the bed to the left of the windows. "Aye, bu' no need to be so polite... boy." Will felt like smiling at the change of address that Jack drew out just to show that he had taken to heart what Will's loose tongue had spilled the night they had been alone together.

"Si' down. I 'ave the feelin' there be some questions."

Will distracted himself from his surprise by taking a quick glance around the room for where he ought to sit. He decided on the window bench again even though it meant he would be a little farther away from Jack than he would have liked; he couldn't judge the pirate's reactions as well from this distance.

"Gibbs told me…" he trailed off, wondering momentarily if the older man would be in trouble because of it. "He told me about the _Pearl_, why you're after her. And about my father."

"Ah, 'n ain' tha' the key."

"My father was a pirate?"

"Aye."

"On board the _Pearl_?"

"Aye."

"But Gibbs said the crew mutinied...my father—"

"Was a good man." Jack sat up and took off his hat, studying it suspiciously. "A good man, firs' and foremost, and a damn good pirate. No doubts, now, boy."

"I don't understand... I thought he was a sailor in the navy, or maybe a merchant. He was a pirate?"

Jack gave him a cocky grin and directly met Will's gaze for the first time during their conversation. "Aye, a pirate, lad. 'N don' worry none 'bout the mutiny." He winked, but Will caught the glimmer of something lurking beneath the carefree expression. "It wasn't the sort of thing 'e accepted."

Will shook his head, coming to the conclusion that all the new information would be too much to analyze and fully comprehend at the moment. "What do you plan to do when you see the _Pearl_?"

The pirate growled shortly. "Ge' 'er bloody well back under me command!"

"I meant—"

"I know wha' you meant, so be quiet." The glare faded quickly, leaving something resembling a pout on the pirate's countenance. "Me plans will be weighed by circumstance."

"I can't believe it. You're just going to _improvise_ the entire thing?" Will asked in exasperation. "The curse – Gibbs said it makes them undead, so how can you kill them? Why would they ever surrender?"

At that, Jack grinned and in a quick motion, a gold medallion appeared between two fingers. Will blinked, surprised by the action and then by the fact he recognized the medallion. He reached for it automatically, memories opening quickly to him since the stormy night the day before.

"Uh-uh," Jack admonished, somehow tucking the medallion away without Will seeing exactly where it went. "I'll be ensurin' its safety by me onsies, savvy? You see, they can' be killed _yet_... but once the final coin is returned 'n—" Will found the quick cut-off unusual and eyed Jack suspiciously as the pirate managed to finish the rest of what he said with little show of worry over his slip. "Well, they won' be so undead anymore."

Will kept quiet, pondering over what Jack was so anxious not to let him know. Another clause in the curse, likely... but what exactly?

-----

TBC...

----

(Next chapter: AnaMaria catches on quickly... and we know she's a slash-fangirl at heart.)


	7. Seven

Ocean Soul

**Part** 7 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited: January 18, 2008_

**Seven**

"Gibbs said ya were up 'ere alone, but I din' believe 'im." AnaMaria scowled at the lack of acknowledgement from Jack and moved to stand before him, blocking his view of the horizon. "Yeh know I wouldn' be up 'ere carin' 'less I s'pect questionin' migh' bring some interestin' answers so, entertain me!"

Jack dragged his gaze to meet hers, lips set in a grumpy frown. His hands rested limply on the wheel.

She crossed her arms and made a thoughtful sound in the back of her throat. "Ain't seen yeh like this 'fore, Cap'n. Wha's th' trouble?"

"I like you, lass bu' no' enough to unburden me black 'eart."

"Horse shit," she declared. "Who else yeh goin' t' tell wha's makin' yeh act sober?"

The pirate captain straightened up and indignantly denied, "I am no' sober!"

"Yeh never can be," AnaMaria muttered, rolling her eyes. "Yeh ain' one for gloom, tho', an' a very new crew member seems t' get the dusty cogs in yer 'ead turnin'. It's bad fer morale, lettin' people see yeh like this!"

Jack glared at her in a squinting stare of consideration. Eventually he seemed to come to a decision, nodding to himself and leaning back from the wheel to stretch. "Go' a bottle of rum?"

A couple hours later, and more than just _one_ bottle of rum, Jack decided he was drunk enough to succumb to AnaMaria's inquisition. Besides, she had slapped him after only a tiny caress, so it didn't look like he'd be able to woo the woman into a different plan of action.

For a while he'd rambled some nonsense or another that he didn't quite remember himself. Finally what he said caught Ana's attention and she focused intently.

"… 'n I seen lotta nas'y things 'n such, but ya 'ave t' wonder 'ow long it wen' on." He took a long swallow from his current bottle and eyed the remaining contents as he continued, "They gone 'n done make th' lad think pretty's bad. It's not bad! No... 'course no'. Knew ya'd agree. Whoops..." He caught himself on the quarter rail he had just stepped away from. He glared blurrily at his feet, obviously wondering why they wouldn't cooperate. AnaMaria stood quietly beside him, a frown darkening her features as she considered the midnight sea and sky.

"Do ya wonder 'ow 'e made it? A soft 'eart li'e tha' 'n 'e lived hip-deep in shi' from uncarin' pigs." He snorted, body moving languidly with the motion of the ship. "...they made 'im curse pretty!"

"You said that already, Jack," AnaMaria said coolly, gently taking a sip from her (second) bottle of rum.

Jack clutched her forearm, drawing her attention to him. Despite his drunkenness, he looked deadly serious as he half-growled his elaboration. "Tha' nigh' ya all wen' ashore, 'e come int' me cabin. 'N 'e tells me no' t' call 'im whelp! I asks, 'why?' 'N 'e chokes on 'is words. Ain' been no one..." He frowned, eyelids drooping a bit as he seemed to puzzle over something. "E bloody broke 'n 'id 'is face so's I can't see. 'Don't look!' says 'e, 'don't look! I don' wan'na be pretty!' 'N I dun' say nothin' – bad 'un, black 'eart 'n all…" He scowled to himself and tossed back another drink.

AnaMaria studied Jack in curiosity during the lapse of silence. This wasn't the man she knew. He cared about someone's unpleasant past? He cared that he couldn't say something comforting? He cared so much that it affected his mood even in the realm of rum when he'd usually pursue her until she beat him black and blue...

So, being as direct as she could, she asked, "Why care?"

Jack sputtered, spitting out a mouthful of rum. He eyed her in that strange, inebriated way of his and scowled in her direction. "Ya don' care yerself? I though' ya'd be 'is bloody guardian angel o' somethin' simmerly mushy…" He crossed his eyes in attempt to look at his mouth, which didn't quite form words in the desired fashion.

"Sure. _I_ care." She stared hard at him. "Bu' why you?"

He puffed out his chest proudly and hoisted his bottle like a sword. "Me care? I 'ave a stone 'eart, all black 'n cold like. Savvy? Cap'n Sparrow don' give a rat's ass abou' no'un. Aye. None." He nodded his head decisively. "Jus' Bootstrap ain' goin' t' res' well wit' a son all messed up." He thumped the bottle against his chest and looked at AnaMaria in determination. "Savvy? Ol' Jack's go' no 'eart. It's fer Bill, aye..."

AnaMaria sighed softly and shook her head. She didn't have to wait long for Jack to finish his mumblings to himself and nursing the bottle of rum. She gazed down impassively at him when he collapsed to the deck. With the same indifference she dragged him to a spot where he could be in some realm of comfort on a sail folded and set aside to be mended. Before she went down to the hold to assign someone for watch, she glanced back one last time at the sleeping man and considered his confessions. She didn't like him much, no, but she could recognize that he had a good soul. All the talk about no heart, black heart, stone heart, or whatever, was an outright lie.

"Bu' jus' wha' is yer 'eart hintin' at?" she muttered. As she descended the stairs into the hold, she found herself toying with the idea of a little... matchmaking. It wasn't nearly as startling of an idea as it should have been.

-----

The next day AnaMaria watched Will from the corner of her eye as the crew worked. The sun rose high and hot, not a cloud in the sky to block the searing rays. Most of the men had discarded their shirts or, in the very least, rolled the sleeves high and unbuttoned the front. Sweat rolled off the many backs and slicked already filthy hair. Tanned skin turned a bronzed brown as the day wore on. It took a while for her to realize that Will didn't take any of the liberties that the other man had. Truth be told, she was about to resort to discarding her shirt in favor of a securely tied cloth around her chest; she already had her shirt unbuttoned as much as reasonably modest and she had rolled her sleeves up as far as she could.

Yet Will made no motion to do any such thing. Pondering this mystery, she stopped her work and studied him critically, trailing her eyes over his bent form as he scrubbed the main deck. His hair, damp from sweat, curled close to his skin and stuck, restricting his neck movement. His face had turned red from sunburn, as had his hands and even his feet. His pale skin didn't fare well under the Caribbean sun and its passionate kiss. His shirt stuck to his body, damp and dirtied from sweat. Despite all of that, the only indication that he was aware of his condition were his parted lips and the occasional back of a hand dragged over his forehead.

She remembered Jack's words and added his observations to her own from when she had helped take care of the boy's brand mark that first day he had turned up. She also considered how he had insisted on treating himself since and the fact that his clothes covered him at all times.

_I'm beginnin' t' see wha's go' Jack in a huff,_ she thought uneasily. She decided the immediate concern would be getting the blacksmith to take a break and cool off before he passed out from heat exhaustion. She frowned when the thought entered her mind that she _could_ let him pass out and then have Jack— No. She mentally shook her head; she wouldn't risk the boy's health just to try and get Jack to realize his potential of a moral heart.

She strode over to Will and rested a booted foot lightly over his red hand clenching the scrubbing brush. "Take a break."

Will looked up with a decidedly endearing expression of mixed confusion and frustration. However she could see weariness behind the expression and frowned as she found signs of little sleep when she looked closer. "Looks like yeh need some sleep. Go on below an' res' a bi'. Ain' goin' t' bother nobody."

He shook his head. "I said I'd work my way for passage. Let me do it."

With a sigh of exasperation, AnaMaria pressed, "Yeh're dead tired, burned blazin' red, an' sweatin' worse'n a pig! Now I say, up!"

Will stood and glared at her, forced to look up slightly at her inch of greater height. "You're not the captain."

"Bu' I am. 'N I agree with 'er, mate."

Both crew members turned with a start of surprise. Jack seemed to have a knack for turning up when least expected. The rest of the crew subtly snuck glances at the scene, none so dumb that they had missed the strange atmosphere forming since the stowaway's appearance in their midst.

"Go on, you 'eard the lass. To bed with you. I don' need a collapsed body takin' up room on me deck."

Frowning in irritation, Will turned toward the hold without a word.

"Wai'." He paused. Jack considered the back of his newest crew member and appeared to come to a quick decision under AnaMaria's attentive gaze. "Take me cabin, lad, you'll be more comfortable."

That turned Will around in a hurry. His expression closed off with suspicion lurking in his eyes. He couldn't very well find an excuse to say no, however, and the closer proximity of the captain's cabin seemed to make the decision for him. As if defeated, he dropped his chin to his chest and shuffled towards the door.

With the sound of the closing door, everyone exhaled a breath of relief. Jack looked around, looking slightly amused by the situation. AnaMaria caught his eye and smiled clandestinely. That threw him off. She walked away with an exaggerated casualness in her step; she felt quite satisfied with her earlier conclusions.

Jack rested a fisted hand on his hip and raised the other to rub his sweat-soaked bandanna and readjust his hat. "Jus' wha' is she smirkin' 'bout?" he muttered to himself.

-----

Within moments of entering the empty cabin Will gave in to temptation and collapsed on the captain's bed, which was far more comfortable than where he slept – which, compared to what most of the crew got, was a hundred times better. Still, he didn't feel particularly comfortable wearing sweat-soaked clothes. After a long deliberation, he sat up and hesitantly glanced around the room as he raised his fingers to the fastenings of his shirt.

He slipped his shirt over his head in a rush, afraid that if he went too slowly that he wouldn't follow through. Immediately his skin prickled at the strange feel of unfiltered air caressing his torso and arms. It took a few deep breaths to keep himself from shuddering as he moved to undo his pants. Will closed his eyes as he peeled the damp cloth from his legs and let it drop to the floor to lay like the shedding of an animal's old skin.

He quickly returned to the bed. Even while the acknowledgement that it was someone else's bed lingered in his mind, he pulled the blanket's edge to cover his abdomen before letting his body completely relax. His eyes closed, exhaustion wearing on his mind and body as secrets continued to ferment behind his guarded silence.

It was the first time since his initial stowaway that he let himself so completely relax; this time, there was not nearly as much physical pain as then, his scars no longer so fresh. In a battle that he willingly lost, Will accepted defeat in the arms of sleep and allowed his mind to slip into unconsciousness.

-----

"Cap'n, why don' yeh take some food an' drink for th' boy an' yerself? Maybe some talk could clear up both yer moods," AnaMaria suggested. She held out prepared food and drink to the pirate captain and waited for his response.

Jack eyed her suspiciously. "I don' know wha's in yer mind, luv, bu' the offer's been taken under consideration." He took the proffered items and turned towards his cabin. He turned around halfway to his destination to see AnaMaria's wide smirk. His kohl-rimmed eyes narrowed at her, but she just tilted her head up and an arrogant expression replaced the smirk.

Muttering about secret plots and unsavory characters, Jack entered his cabin and set his burdens down on his desk to light the candles and lamps around the room. Between the lamplight and the setting sun, a warm glow cast itself over the room as he took the time to seek out the whereabouts of Will.

His gaze snagged momentarily on the crumpled clothes on the floor in surprise. Then his eyes shifted to the bed and he inhaled sharply.

-----

TBC...

-----


	8. Eight

Ocean Soul

**Part** 8 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Revised January 18, 2008_

**Eight**

It was fortunate that Jack need not face anyone but himself at the moment given that he was in no position to deny that he had some sort of feelings developing towards the boy. His intake of breath had been drawn quickly, an almost silent gasp of shock at the sight that lay before him.

Will hadn't secured the blanket around him before falling asleep. Hours later, the blanket covered next to nothing, draped over the curve of skin where knee and thigh connected. He lay mostly on his side, his upper body twisted to rest more on his back; his knees pointed towards Jack. Chapped lips parted in relaxation. The day's wicked, red sunburn contrasted the otherwise milky-pale skin, making it painfully obvious where clothes usually covered him.

Would that the sunburn be the worst and only problem.

For the first time Jack could study Will without barriers, physical or otherwise. Laying bare, he looked far more mature than his years – unusual, as Jack typically found that when he watched lovers sleep, they looked much younger. Not so with Will. Maybe because of all the marks scarring what should have been beautiful, unblemished skin; or maybe because Will really hadn't been a boy for some time.

Jack's gut clenched, giving rise to a bitter, dull ache. He didn't feel sickened by what he saw, he felt ill at ease because this young man had a name and familiar face and a body that had not exposed itself to others voluntarily. Wounds on this body were not souvenirs of battle but abuse, and it was detestable.

In addition to the bones still protruding far too much for Jack's liking, yellow-tinged bruises and streaks of near-white scars decorated much of Will's body. A scattering of fading bruises spread across Will's lower torso, hips, and even a couple on his thighs – the apparent result of harsh hands and searching prods. Building trepidation left a bitter taste in Jack's mouth.

An old scar, perhaps three inches in length, ran like a silver tear from near the right nipple and downward at a slant. Decorating the inner arm of Will's left forearm were precise, patterned white scars. While they hadn't occupied his mind moments ago, it was what made Jack move from his prone position a few feet away.

The pirate captain –obviously far from heartless – strode forward and crouched beside the bed. He gently took in hand the bare arm and studied the old and somewhat faded scars of past cuts. Calloused hands, wind-blown and rough from years upon years at sea, turned gentle, and Jack stroked the soft skin with an unfamiliar tenderness.

He had no idea how long he crouched there staring blankly at the wounded arm. There was only a quick twitch of muscle in warning before Will erupted into wakefulness. Loud, jumbled words ran together as Will scrambled backward in panic and yanked the blanket around him.

It took a few moments for Jack to fully break away from his trance. He stared, blinking in bewilderment at the boy cowering on the opposite corner of the bed.

-----

Will hated that he had accidentally cornered himself in his sudden panic. His mind couldn't quite comprehend what had happened. He had slowly come out of the darkness of a deep sleep because of the strange feeling of a touch akin to one he had not felt since childhood when embraced by his mother. Only after he managed to open his eyes and other senses did he realized where he slept and that the person touching him was definitely _not_ the mother from his dreams.

Jack stood abruptly, waving his hands in quieting motions. "You tryin' to bring the whole crew up 'ere? I ain' done nothin'!"

In the moment of calm, Will realized that his cheeks had become sticky with tears that still blurred his vision. His breathing evened off a bit as he stared at Jack, still frightened and very confused. Noticing that Jack looked bewildered as well, he tried to recall what he had said bare moments ago. He realized it was a lost cause, he hadn't really been forming anything more than wordless protests.

He looked down at his trembling body – the visible evidence of tension causing every muscle to quiver. He feared that even if he tried, he would never be able to unfurl from his position. His fingers would forever clench the blanket, masking his body so no one could see. No one could ever see. If they did, it would lead to terrible, terrible things.

"Will..."

The quiet tone pushed gently into his daze. He slowly raised his eyes to study Jack's face. He stopped shuddering as confusion filled him. Will couldn't be sure how to describe the expression on the pirate's face, but suffice to say it wasn't what he expected when someone had just been staring at him and touching him so sensuously.

Jack's dark eyes clouded, portraying a sense of loss. The muscles near his mouth twitched in a familiar way– the struggle between giving a brave mask while inside the soul quaked uncontrollably in terror. He couldn't understand why _Jack_ looked like that.

"What were you doing?" he asked in a hushed tone. Jack looked just as surprised as Will himself at the words. He quickly closed his mouth, not taking back the words, but blocking any others from escaping. Why didn't he scream? Why did he not tear out of the cabin and lock himself away in some relatively safe, secluded spot?

His muscles weren't nearly as tense as they had been minutes earlier. He felt the blanket gently slip down his arm to bare more skin and although his heart beat quicker in minor fear – or was it apprehension? – he made no move to replace the fabric. He didn't feel so naked anymore.

Jack didn't answer and Will felt too nervous to try and speak again, not sure what else may escape his lips. It looked like it would be a silent standoff , but eventually the pirate's lips twitched and he said,

"I saw th' scars on yer arms."

Silence again, waiting for some sort of prompt from Will. Any sort of reaction: relieved, angry, frightened... anything but the blankness that left open interpretation. Will didn't know what he wanted to give back. He sat in silence, stare locked on the pirate's face.

"They're unlike th' others. Did you make 'em yerself?"

Inside him came a wash of sadness, like a gentle tide brushing over a sandy shore. Will could feel pain in the sadness, but not the type that splintered or stabbed or burned, only a discomfort dulled somehow because of the sense of warmth following it. Will's face contorted, lines pinching together skin and muscles in the confusion over the emotions invading him. His eyes fell away from Jack, his vision blurring more than before, and his body shifted. The blanket fell completely forgotten and got tangled between his legs as he rounded his body into a tight curl and rocked gently. Shuddering breaths heralded the first release of tears in a long, long while.

A strange sense of peace now accompanied the pain. The cries that eventually tore harshly through clenched teeth made his ribcage ache with freedom. His tightened jaw unhinged and senseless syllables fell from his lips. The tears scalded, warm from body heat and then inflaming the painful sunburn covering his face. Hiccups interrupted his breathing, jarring his body and reawakening dull aches.

The sting of crying is the key to unlocking all other pain, baring it to the world and begging for it to be taken away. Somehow amidst the tears, the buildup of saliva, and jolts of hiccups, some of that pain begins to fall away. Healing can finally begin.

All it needed was a little help.

Will didn't know when the outer comfort of warmth first curled around him; he didn't care about anything beyond the fact he couldn't remember ever having it. In his desperation for this new sensation he reached his arms out, curling around the warmth and clutching it close to his body. He buried his head in its salt-, rum-, and sweat-scented, dirty shoulder. His fingers dug into the fabric covering the firm body of it, and even then he didn't feel as if he could get close enough. He sobbed in frustration, wanting to be completely encompassed by this feeling of comfort so foreign that it could be the embodiment of heaven – but he had never even dreamed of going there. Now that it lay before him, he could not let it escape.

He cried: for pain; in relief; from frustration; for the death of his mother; his helplessness against protecting himself; for the twist of fate that he had been handed. He cried for the touch that had awoken him and the voice that had struck upon the truth and the body that held all he could never manage to dream of.

In every level of being, his soul and body cleansed itself through shed tears and released sounds that could translate into a tale of human misery that far too many experienced. Crying is always the first step. With the dam removed, it was time to look at the source of what had created the river of pain that had been blocked.

-----

TBC

-----

_I just realized that as I'm editing this (**again** in January 2008) that I wrote part of this chapter in an English class at the beginning of my junior year in high school. Four and a half years later here I am! This is the longest running fic I've written and probably the most re-edited piece as well. And if I ever manage to finish this I'll want to do some real revisions/reworking. Oo_


	9. Nine

Ocean Soul

**Part** 9 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited January 18, 2008_

**Nine**

Soft hiccups accompanied the sound of rolling waves stroking the ship. Jack hadn't said anything for a long time, remaining the steadfast comfort that Will so needed.

Resurrection would follow in the near future, and the realization that such a thing could even be possible let loose a wild, strange light of hope. Nothing was perfect or resolved as of yet, but the point of the moment was that resolution was finally in sight. Will knew for the first time that life would get better. He could feel it.

It slowly sunk in that Will clutched Jack as if he were all that remained in the world; in return, Jack cradled the skinny body in a very unpirate-y gesture. Embarrassment couldn't win out over the thorough exhaustion that encompassed Will's being, but he did force his body to uncurl and move away, putting some distance between them. He immediately felt cold.

"I..." he trailed off. He tugged the blanket back over his lap and stared blindly at his fingers as they played with the fabric.

Jack tilted his head a bit in attempt to better see the other's face – unsuccessfully. Hiding a sigh, he said, "You alright, luv?"

Will nodded numbly, still not meeting the inquisitive gaze. Why had he allowed himself to break down? He had held on for so long, so why did he let himself break apart now? What was it about this ship? No, not the ship or the crew as a whole… What was it that drew him to AnaMaria? And to this odd pirate captain? How could he trust such lowlifes when it had already been proven to him that so-called honest men could be as bad as the rumors of lusty pirates? Wouldn't the lowlifes be that much worse?

"Listen, mate, after I 'ave the _Pearl_ back I'll go back with you to Port Royale 'n the crew will take care o' anyone you want. Savvy?"

Startled, Will looked up to see Jack's serious expression. He felt mostly horrified at the thought of ever seeing some of those men at port again, but the surprise of the offer triggered suspicion in him. Questions crowded his mind again, wondering over Jack's unconventional character. He could never second-guess this man or even pretend to know what his next move would be. It ought to have scared Will, but something thrilled him about it all the same.

His body felt chill again, bare and open to the cabin surrounding them. It seemed as if the cabin encompassed the entirety of the world, nothing lay beyond, not now. He didn't want to acknowledge the outside world of cruelty at the moment. He wanted to revel in this freedom that held up his now unguarded, vulnerable soul where he didn't feel afraid.

He stared at Jack, meeting the dark eyes, searching for... something he could not name at present. Jack let him look.

-----

It didn't seem like Will would respond to his offer, Jack thought, matching the boy's gaze. The chocolate-brown eyes peered into him, delving into his soul and searching for something – gods knew what. The curious, silent exchange continued, mostly because Jack wanted to know just what the boy wanted.

"Does it matter?" Will said suddenly.

Jack blinked and the intense gaze broke. "What?"

Will looked down at his arms, palms up. With the fingertips of his opposite hand, he trailed the crossing pattern of old scars on covering his forearm. "If I made them or not, does it matter?"

Jack paid more attention to Will's face than the scarred arm. He searched for further reactions and emotions – regret? Pride? Nothing came but that studying gaze. Slowly Jack shifted his focus and studied the cream-colored underarm and the trembling fingers that ran the path of a carved history. Gently he captured the wrist of the trembling hand and moved it away so that he could study the damage himself. Will glanced at Jack without fear, only slight apprehension.

Years of living on ships and constantly working with his hands caused a strange inkling of fear that his hands might be somehow too rough, that somehow the deceptively frail-looking skin would tear if he didn't proceed carefully. He brushed a thumb over a long, horizontal scar that crossed from one side of the underarm to the other.

"Three years ago," Will murmured impassively.

Jack took the time to caress each scar and wait for the short information of its placement in time. Indeed his earlier impression had been correct – Will's scarred arm marked a sort of timeline. Like men who remained in cells for too long to recall, he had carved into his skin the permanent reminder of time passing. Dimly, Jack wondered if the sight of these scars would be a blessing or curse in years to come. Perhaps he had been wrong about these injuries not being battle wounds...

A strange urge over-powered Jack's current act of playing the gentleman, and he went with his gut instinct, used to taking risks; if this could turn out well...

------

Will gasped in surprise when Jack laid the first kiss on the oldest scar. His brow furrowed in consternation; Will stared silently as the pirate lifted his eyes in question. Finding no protest, the captain again traced every scar, this time with his lips gently caressing the marks of faded years in chronological order. The former blacksmith had the unfamiliar, uplifting sense of letting go. Unlike his earlier tears, this left him with no amount of pain, only a gentle, warm comfort – warm and moist from Jack's lips.

"Why...?" he whispered quietly when Jack had finished.

Jack's gaze looked as unsure as Will felt. Will let his hand be cupped to the weathered cheek of the pirate. He felt as if he sat in two places at once – part of him cradled to the warm body of comfort that Jack had become; his other half sat aside and studied the scene, trying to figure out the answers to all the questions flooding his mind. They stared at one another in silence for some time.

Will watched in amazement as Jack turned his head slightly so that his lips brushed over Will's palm. Another soft kiss, so foreign. What was the reason for this treatment? Will couldn't even begin to comprehend his own feelings with the situation, let alone figure out the motivation for such gentleness.

Neither realized yet that the years in Port Royale had taught _only_ pain and Will was unable to understand the course of gentle, affectionate emotions. Lust he had seen. Relationships driven by pure, physical need, greed, or emotion had been common sights in his recent past. The only peace he'd experienced had been the occasional glance of Elizabeth and that, well... that was different from this.

He shook his head hopelessly, staring at his skin where Jack's lips insisted on resting. At the same time horrified and confused, Will's fascination kept him from pulling away from the physical contact. He watched with a calculating gaze, clinically detached simply because his uncertainty of how to approach the situation.

"Was only a violent 'and offered you?" Jack asked in a low tone. His eyebrows knit together in astonishment as Will slowly nodded his head. Muttering a soft curse, Jack gently kissed Will's palm before meeting his eyes again. "Would that Bill were 'ere – 'e'd go back to lop off the 'eads of such asses. Bu' me ship is me heart…" A strange look that Will could not define entered the pirate's dark gaze. "Forgive me?" Jack murmured almost inaudibly against a pale, calloused hand.

Will stared at him in confusion. His lips parted slightly as if preparing to speak but nothing came to mind, and he couldn't force anything to form without being sure of what to say. Will had the sense that this was very important – a key to something that lay just beyond the wall that kept him back from the world in which Jack belonged. He ached to join the pirate on the other side, to be able to drink carelessly, toss back his head and laugh, offer up such a wide range of emotions, and – strangely this seemed the most important – to be able to give and receive with comprehension these gentle strokes of skin against skin.

His lips quirked up into an ironic smile. "I can't understand you," he admitted longingly.

Jack responded with a wistful smile of his own. "With yer permission, luv, I would gladly guide you." A brief sparkle of amusement crossed the tanned face, but his sincerity lingered.

Hesitant because he didn't know where this would lead, Will carefully nodded his head. Apprehension noted, Jack smiled reassuringly. He took the sunburned hand still in his grasp and kissed the knuckles.

"'Fore yer lessons go far, I suggest a rest, savvy?"

Will blinked, temporarily surprised; a moment later he decided that the pirate must be psychic – a yawn stretched his jaw wide. He glared at Jack's smirk.

"No' me fault. You ge' some rest, I'll sleep elsewhere tonight."

As Jack made to leave, Will grabbed for an arm. "No," he whispered, expression contorted with sudden fear. "I'd rather you stay."

-----

After a few moments of consideration, Jack motioned for the younger man to make himself comfortable. He blew out all the candles save one near the bed and returned to his companion. Will's eyes trailed after the pirate's moves; not in anxiety, rather in a sort of...patience. Jack sat at the edge of the bed, taking off his boots and hat before easing into a horizontal position. Will lay on his side, a distance away, studying Jack with a confused expression.

The pirate eyed him. "What?"

Will struggled with a shrug and frowned. "Something's not right."

Jack looked at the last candle, then at Will, then back again. Although he had no reason for the change in gaze, it gave him something physical to do while his mind worked over what to do. Shaking his head slightly in amusement, Jack blew out the candle and inched closer to Will before settling again, this time close enough that body heat mixed between them.

"This alright?"

No answer so Jack waited long moments, pondering if he ought to move away or not. He ended up assuring himself that Will wouldn't be stupid enough to stay quiet – any longer, at least – about anything that made him uncomfortable. Jack settled down for sleep; the next day he would have to develop further plans regarding Barbossa and his precious _Pearl_. He needed a clear head for such things.

Just as he drifted off, he felt the tentative brush of an arm cross his stomach. A heavy weight settled on his shoulder and stray strands of hair brushed against his cheek. In the dark, Jack Sparrow, current captain of the commandeered _Interceptor_, smiled.

-----

TBC

-----


	10. Ten

Ocean Soul

**Part** 10 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_January 18, 2008_

**Ten**

"What are we doing?" Will asked AnaMaria. He leaned over the quarter rail to look at the Island they slowly circled.

The dark-skinned woman glanced at him briefly to check that he was well and safe after the night spent with Jack. She had been on deck off and on for most of the night and heard a number of things left open to wide interpretation, but dawn's light found a strange sort of peace lingering over both men.

"Cap'n's lookin' for a well-'idden cove. Yeh can't see it from out 'ere, but we'll be able t' see when th' _Pearl_ shows up."

Will nodded absently. His brow furrowed in concentration, perking the female pirate's curiosity.

"Now wha' are yeh thinkin'?"

His serious look immediately disappeared as he turned to face her. A faint smile crossed his lips. "Nothing important." She cast him a doubtful look, but he only glanced away, again studying the island. AnaMaria sighed to herself and continued about her work. Suddenly, Will spoke again. "Do you know how the curse is broken?"

She looked up, startled, and found the considering look back on his face. "Eh? I'm 'fraid tha's somethin' I don' know much abou'."

"Right... Thanks."

Will pulled back and searched the deck. AnaMaria followed his gaze and realized he had been looking for Gibbs. Will bid an absent farewell before heading towards the old sailor. With a frown AnaMaria focused back on her work, wondering what troubled the lad when he seemed to finally have lost the worst of his tension concerning all else.

-----

Jack strode across the deck of the _Interceptor_ shouting orders in all directions to the crew. He sent a group to shore to venture into the interior of the island in search of good positions to watch for the _Pearl_.

Mentally he calculated how long they could stay put with the supplies they had; he was comfortable saying that a full month of food could last them here, and they would be able to make it back to a port to resupply within a week's travel. He stood still to observe the setup and in those few moments, AnaMaria walked pass on her way towards the boat that would take her ashore. She swung her pack up over her shoulder, narrowly missing Jack's face. He glared at the woman, and she met him with a stern stare of her own.

Before she moved on, she growled, "I ge' back and 'e's hurt... I'll make sure yeh ge' left behind an' at Barbossa's mercy."

Jack cast her a heavy frown as she walked away. No trust! he huffed silently.

After another check around, he felt satisfied that things had been set up the best they could for the time being. He finally allowed himself to relax and headed towards his cabin for a little meeting with a bottle of rum. Despite the lack of tension, his nerves buzzed eagerly with the thought of the face-off against his mutinous former crew.

In his distraction, he almost walked into Will, who stood in front of the door to his cabin. "Wha' is it?" he wondered aloud, eyeing the boy with a slight frown. He had been looking forward to some time alone to ponder over recent events, some of which concerned the man before him.

"I want to know the details of lifting the curse," Will told him bluntly.

Jack eyed the serious expression and nodded uneasily. It appeared that whatever Will suspicions had didn't favor the captain's lack of detail when he had explained the situation earlier on their voyage.

"Right. C'mon in then."

Will sat on the window bench. Jack let out a long sigh while he opened a locked cupboard for his precious bottle of rum. The former blacksmith waited patiently as Jack pried free the cork and took his first swig from the bottle. "Ahh, I've been waitin' for tha'."

From within his shirt, Jack produced the golden, Aztec medallion and tossed it to Will. The younger man caught it easily and studied the pendant as if seeing it for the first time. "I admi' it, mate. I wasn't quite on the level with you 'fore." Jack settled himself across from Will, one leg drawn up on the bench. "All the coins 'ave to get back in the box, savvy? 'N in addition," he caught Will's eyes to ensure his words sunk in, "thar's go' to be some form of blood repayment."

Jack was surprised that the chocolate-colored eyes didn't widen in shock or narrow in anger at having been deceived; on the contrary, some of the tension seemed to ease from Will's face as he inquired, "Do you know the details?"

"Eh..." Still feeling slightly put off, Jack took another swig – two for good measure – from his beloved bottle. "Ahem. A bi' of blood, I imagine. Barbossa's likely to 'ave had the crew already pay theirs." He eyed Will uneasily, "Bootstrap's..."

"Wasn't paid. Right." Will nodded, taking it all in stride. Jack took another drink for his confusion. "So my blood is needed, correct?"

Jack stared at him, just short of gaping. "Why're you takin' this so calm like?"

A strange sort of half-smirk crossed Will's lips and his eyes glittered teasingly. "I just asked Gibbs about the truth. You'd think he was part of your old crew with all his stories. I just needed to know if you'd be honest with me." He leaned back, folding his arms over his chest. "A little more blood isn't much to lose, and I suppose it's part of my due for coming aboard."

Now Jack really gaped at him. Will eyed him uneasily. Automatically, the captain stuck the bottle of rum back between his lips and didn't stop swallowing until less than a half of the rum remained.

After Jack made a short show of clearing his throat, their eyes met again and Will tentatively inquired, "Are you alright?"

Jack shook his head in amazement and grinned. "Damn, boy. Yer full of surprises."

Will ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously and averted his gaze. The fingers of his free hand turned over the gold medallion and the men's focus returned to the object. Will looked up at Jack and tossed the necklace back to him.

"Keep it until it's to be gotten rid of."

Jack caught the item and slipped it back into his shirt. When he looked up, he saw a slightly pained look on his companion's face. Glancing down in the direction Will's gaze had been cast, he realized that the lad's eyes focused on his ringed fingers. The reason escaped him momentarily until he remembered that the first day he had taken away the items the lad brought on board.

With a sinking sense of guilt, Jack loosened the two rings from his finger and offered them to Will. The young man looked up in surprise, eyebrows drawn high. His hand opened beneath the proffered items and Jack let the rings return to their rightful owner.

"Sorry, luv," he quirked a smile. "A bad 'abit of mine." He watched as Will carefully studied the two rings. "Judgin' from yer situation back at port, I don' think those be yers."

Will glanced at him and shrugged mildly. "I think they were my father's," he said softly. "My mother had them on the chain with the medallion; I got them when she slipped the chain about my neck just before our ship was attacked." He looked out the window, a crease forming on his brow. "I think it was the _Black Pearl_."

"Yer lucky they didn't get you," Jack muttered.

Will caught his eye, expression serious. "Maybe not me."

Jack kept quiet, knowing the lad's meaning. Will seemed to brush off the memory and returned to studying the rings.

"It's a wedding band, isn't it?" he more stated than asked as he held one of the rings to the light. "My mother really loved my father, but I guess he didn't love her." He reached back to undo the clasp to the necklace he wore beneath his shirt and slipped the rings on the chain. They slid down to rest beside the locket. He refastened the clasp and sighed, an obvious tension exhaled.

"What is love, really?" Will wondered aloud, no bitterness in his voice, only pure, unadulterated inquiry. He looked at Jack plainly, neither insisting nor pleading.

Taken aback by the question, Jack considered taking another swig from the bottle of rum at his side. He didn't know what to do with a talkative Will Turner.

"I don' think I be the best to ask, mate. Pirate 'eart for the ocean 'n all."

Will nodded absently. "But you would know it if you felt it, right?"

Wondering just where this would head, Jack eyed him as he answered slowly, "Aye..."

"That's the difference. I wouldn't. I don't." Jack saw something flicker in the brown eyes, something that looked like another question that he didn't feel should be asked.

"Wha' is it?" he prodded gently, strangely anxious to know.

Will smiled and closed his eyes. He shook his head minutely. "Nothing. My mind's wandering today."

For a long time they sat in companionable silence. The sound of crewmembers above them and outside on the main deck was muffled. The sun filtered in through the large windows. The sun's angle of light mercifully didn't cast its direct light through the window where they sat, saving them from scorching heat. Occasionally Jack took a drink from the bottle still in hand, out of instinct more than want.

The pirate captain felt perfectly content lounging there, studying Will's profiled face as the lad leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The sun played over the planes of his face, bringing out the beauty Jack had noted early on. Only now the beauty somehow seemed intensified... No, not from the Caribbean sun – the beauty had grown because he knew some of what lay behind the "pretty" face that had gained unwanted attention and caused so much pain. He realized, with a brief skip in his breathing, that the beauty belonged to a survivor, an adventurer or warrior.

Did the lad understand that? Somehow he doubted that very much. Jack's fingers flexed involuntarily, and he found himself leaning forward slowly, silently. He startled, as did Will, when his hand rested upon the younger man's knee.

Will stared at him with open surprise. Jack lost himself in the rich brown gaze, seeking any of that fear he had seen the night before – sadness or even bitterness – but the emotions seemed to have been freed from their hidden corners; the emotion Will now offered to him pure. He felt his lips twitch towards a smile and he outright grinned when Will's expression changed to that of someone who was staring at a madman. Jack laughed aloud as he slapped the other's knee merrily and then sat back.

Shaking his head slowly in exasperation, Will waited for Jack to settle down. "What was that about?" he inquired when the pirate seemed capable of responding.

Still grinning, Jack said, "I 'aven't the foggiest."

-----

As Will settled himself for sleep, he found that he felt strangely empty and chill laying alone in the bed he had occupied during most of his stay on the stolen – er, _commandeered_, as Jack said – ship. He turned from his right side to his back, and then to his stomach, and then through the process again. Frustrated, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark ceiling.

After how many years of sleeping alone, now he couldn't seem to manage? His breath left his lips in a huff. His mind went back to mulling things over; things like Jack's expression when he found out Will had been testing him, or the feel of lips on his arm. He shivered a little at the memory, not out of any sort of fear, but because although it felt surreal, it had warmed him within to have such attention paid to injuries no one but he had known about.

The sadness threatened to encompass him again but he drove it off, remembering Jack's wild laughter earlier that day and the body heat that had been so comforting last night despite the heat and humidity Mother Nature had already been providing.

What is this? he wondered. What does it really mean to trust someone and reveal inner secrets that no one is supposed to hear? For an instant, his guard dropped and he froze at the memory of hands clawing at his hips and the breeze of cool air on his skin. He drove the memory away in a hurry, jaw tightening. No, that time had ended. _Never_ again. He stroked the inside of his left arm, remembering the scars and how Jack had seemed to purify them with his touch.

-----

"How long are we going to wait here?" Will asked a few days after his sleepless night. Currently he made himself comfortable, spreading out in a lounging position in the shadow of the forecastle deck. Jack sat on a crate nearby, surveying the crew on duty.

"We can sit 'til a month's time."

Will cocked an eyebrow in skepticism. "And you think your crew will hold out for that long?"

Jack glared at him, a playful hint in his eye. "Tha's mutinous talk, mate."

"That's just what I meant."

The pirate frowned. "Wha', you doubt me good looks 'n enamorin' charm?"

Will laughed, closing his eyes against whatever reaction Jack provided. As the days passed, he had found himself more and more often in the company of the captain and with next to nothing to do unless he asked to help someone stand watch. Jack had nullified the requirement that Will act as cabin boy, and Will really didn't know what to do with himself when not practicing sword-fighting, having never had complete freedom from any sort of chore before.

Through his time spent with Jack, he found himself warming up to the pirate more than he had ever expected. A smile frequented his lips and laughter escaped him, musical even to his ears because of its rarity. His uneasiness diminished greatly along with his fears and melancholic memories after the night of revelation. He longed to again engage in the gentle touches Jack had offered that night, but he felt too nervous to try to initiate something himself. He made himself content to wait. Verbal banter, after all, turned out to be rather enjoyable in and of itself.

"I take tha' as a deadly cut, Mr. Turner," Jack growled.

Will opened his eyes and looked innocently at the captain; he had found that the expression usually weakened the pirate to the point of averting his eyes and taking a long swig of rum if any was in the vicinity. Not having the option this time, Jack frowned, which more resembled a pout, and stood up. He didn't like to admit defeat, and so instead acted as if he had caught something amiss and had to see to it.

The former blacksmith watched him go with a small sense of loss, but he knew that Jack would return soon. With that reassurance, he leaned back again and closed his eyes, hoping for a short nap to pass the time.

-----

TBC

-----


	11. Eleven

Ocean Soul

**Part** 11 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited January 18, 2008_

**Eleven** – _in which every three steps forward means two steps back_

Will stood alone in the captain's cabin waiting for Jack on the tenth evening since the _Interceptor_ weighed anchor at the Isla de Muerta. He'd lit a lamp on the desk and a few of the candles scattered about upon entering the cabin, but in the long minutes following he just stood, staring out the large windows. His thoughts, however, drifted far from the reason of why the crew sat and waited.

He clasped his hands behind his back in order to reduce fidgeting; so far he had been successful. Unfortunately the lack of outside movement did nothing to pacify his insides. He felt mildly queasy from a mix of a fluttering sensation in his stomach and the intense hammering of his heart.

All his thoughts currently revolved around Jack: memories, echoes of words, thoughts of what might come... Will couldn't resist the strange, delighted shiver that traversed his body and heightened the earlier sensations of anxiety and anticipation. He breathed deeply in hopes of calming himself and succeeded only in filling himself with the scent that he identified with Jack – the spice of rum, salty sea air, sweat, and a trace of something metallic. He sighed, exasperated with himself.

Something had been building between him and Jack, he knew that; he also acknowledged that the relationship was quickly progressing to its peak. That destination was what he wasn't sure about. He didn't quite know what to imagine that point to look like or what exactly it would involve – partly because of his lack in experience (although not knowledge) but mostly because he and Jack hadn't spoken about the obvious connection that bonded them. He had the feeling that Jack had asked for his presence this evening for just such a conversation.

"Unless yer comfortable standin', si'down, luv."

Will started, surprised that he hadn't noticed the pirate's entrance. He turned around to face Jack, catching the typical half-drunk expression covering the pirate's countenance.

A brief smile crossed Jack's lips before he turned away, arranging something on the desk. "Would you mind if I took a look at tha' burn of yers?"

In response, Will undid the buttons of his shirt and let the cloth slip off his shoulders, down to his wrists. He looked up and waited momentarily until Jack turned. He watched the roaming eyes and knew the instant Jack refocused himself on the task at hand.

The pirate came to stand beside him and gently lifted his left arm to inspect the healing burn mark. Will suppressed the urge to giggle, something he could never remember having done, as Jack's calloused fingers slipped around the sensitive skin near his armpit.

-----

Distracted by the tremor that ran through the lad's body, Jack looked up, worrying that he had done something upsetting; instead he found the trace of discomfort and what looked to be the beginning of a smile. Comprehension quickly sunk in and he chuckled before going back to his critical analysis of the wound.

"Tis not as ugly as it could've been, luv," Jack announced, gently rubbing a thumb near the still-raw skin. He let the arm fall back into place at Will's side. "Yer healin' well, bu' the scar's goin' to be nasty." He pulled up the sleeve of his right arm; above the cloth tied about his wrist and beneath the tattoo of a sparrow flying over waves, a pink patch of skin remained free of hair in the perfect shape of a P. Jack's eyes glittered with a grin when Will met his gaze again. "Boys with the East Indian Company 'ave a 'andy set of tools. Leaves nice, clear marks." He waved towards his own skin for evidence.

A crease crossing Will's forehead signaled pensive concern when he inquired, "Is that all?" Jack slowly shook his head, bemused. Will continued to stare at him with an intense gaze. "May I see?"

Somehow the request didn't throw Jack off-guard as perhaps it should have, so the pirate captain calmly turned slightly as he began to loosen the garments covering his upper body. From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Will let his shirt fall to the floor. A small smile tickled the pirate's lips; the lad really had gotten comfortable around him.

With Jack's torso fully bared, Will considered him silently, brow still furrowed. He walked slowly around the pirate, causing Jack a neck-ache as he followed the lad's movements. Finally the look of intensity eased and Will seemed to sag just slightly as his muscles untangled themselves from tight knots. Brown eyes met darker brown momentarily before Will stepped forward and did something unimaginable.

He wrapped his now-tanned fingers loosely around Jack's right hand and lifted the arm; once the appendage was at face level, Will bent his lips to brush the branded "P." Jack's jaw dropped in shock.

-----

Will trailed up the arm, following the curve of muscle to the shoulder blade and again his lips descended on revealed skin, just below the sharply defined bone. Jack shivered as Will rested his hands on the pirate's hips in order to keep himself balanced. Will moved his lips to caress three, parallel scars running diagonally from low back to below the beltline. Without a moment of hesitation, he moved to nuzzle lovingly another tattoo, in a the pattern of a Celtic cross, at the right of the left shoulder blade.

-----

Jack's left arm remained unmarked, but the captain sucked his breath in slowly, knowing that not all the marks had been touched.

Will took a lengthy pause, although Jack didn't know whether it was out of hesitation on Will's part or if he was merely calculating the layout of the scars decorating the firm, tanned chest. With graceful reverence Will placed his hands on Jack's shoulders and closed his eyes upon kissing the first mark. Below the collar bone, high on the left pectoral two round marks left dark, puckered scars – bullet wounds. The kiss lasted longer there than any of the other marks, perhaps because of a silent prayer sent to the heavens in thanks. The next scar ran right through Jack's right nipple. As Will dragged his lips innocently down the healed wound, his lips parted and caught on the misshapen nub of flesh. Jack involuntarily groaned, his eyes closing and head tilting back.

-----

Will jerked in surprise, not having expected the response, and felt his own body tingle with excitement from what he had caused. So delightful had the moan sounded, he parted his teeth and let his tongue give a tentative lick. Jack's hands rose to Will's arms this time and grasped the younger man's shoulders gently.

Shakily, Jack breathed, "If you don' know wha' yer gettin' int', luv, you better stop."

The response came in the form of another lick; Jack's fingers tightened as another, breathy moan escaped his lips. He rocked his hips forward when Will continued, licking slowly at first and then picking up the pace as their breathing turned into pants. Jack silently urged Will away from his chest and towards his mouth; one hand guided from its place behind Will's neck, the other arm wrapped around the lad's waist, bringing their bodies flush.

-----

Will initially pulled back from the feel of hips and something all too disturbingly familiar pressing against him; he turned his face away so that Jack could only catch the skin of his cheek for a kiss. Although his body remained tense Jack managed to be patient, slowly coaxing Will to relax. As the brunette did so, his breathing picked up again and little mewls sounded in the back of his throat as he began to roll his hips, an answering erection to Jack's own. Slowly he let his head turn to meet Jack's. His eyes heavily lidded, he attempted to make out the features of his companion.

-----

Desperately Jack's lips sought Will's, gliding haphazardly over skin and toothlessly nibbling as he found his target. Through parted, gasping lips, he slid his tongue into the other mouth, his eyes closing—

"Ouch!"

Jack pulled his head back quickly, shutting his mouth and running his tongue soothingly against the roof of his mouth. He found that his body had stilled, the erection barely diminished, and Will froze, muscles tensing. The expression on the younger man's face, however, only held the hints of fear, the majority of the emotions conveyed embarrassment and guilt.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, tanned cheeks flushing. "I... it's..." He averted his gaze, a cold look crossing over his eyes. As he tried to pull away, Jack firmly increased his grip.

Around his sorely bitten tongue, he said, "Don' worry, luv. I wasn't thinkin' 'bout how you might've reacted." He smiled and ran his fingers over sweat-slicked hair. He laid a gentle kiss on Will's forehead and prompted, "Wan' to tell me wha' it was about?"

-----

Will let his body melt against Jack's and wrapped his arms tightly about the other man, grateful beyond words for the support. He buried his face against Jack's neck before he felt safe to speak.

"Jonathon."

"Who was tha', luv?"

Will's voice trembled with anger. "My _cousin_."

Gently Jack stroked the tensed muscles of the pale back. He paused his movements, asking, "The bruises on yer hips… Did 'e…?"

Nodding shortly, Will pressed his face against Jack's neck, his eyes tightly shut. In a broken whisper, Will continued, "The night I left. I'd been burned a few hours earlier. Jon came back." He shuddered unexpectedly at the memory. "A whore's lip paint still smeared on his skin, but... he threw me down. He always faced me, but I was on my stomach. I was so confused but—" A small cry escaped his lips. "He had my pants down – I didn't understand!" He shuddered, a tear leaking from beneath his eyelids. "I was so desperate and somehow I grabbed hold of one of Uncle's bottles – thank God!" He quieted and let the tears subside, giving in fully to Jack's gentle rocking.

The pirate captain whispered quiet, calming endearments as he continued to stroke slowly relaxing muscles. "It won't happen, Will, I swear it," he murmured. Will nodded against his shoulder, still unable to trust his speech as his throat constricted at the words. "I wan' to try this, though," Jack whispered gently, lips brushing the top of Will's ear. "Jus' tell me wha's not okay."

-----

Again Will nodded, and this time he spoke softly, "Don't put your... tongue, in my mouth." His head slowly came up and his eyes skidded nervously away from Jack's gaze. "It's..."

"Shh…" Jack understood, and said so silently by placing a comforting kiss to the corner of Will's lips. The former blacksmith smiled shakily. Jack was determined to return Will to the daring explorer he'd been bare minutes before the sudden breakdown.

Another series of kisses followed those thoughts, his lips covering the skin of Will's face until the younger man pressed for their lips to lock. The slick, inside of their lips slid apart, causing continual pressing to seek a better purchase; it seemed to become somewhat of a game as Will began to laugh quietly until it spread to his lips and Jack found himself more often than not kissing teeth instead of lips.

"C'mere," Jack chuckled, rubbing a thumb over Will's lower lip before descending again and sucking gently on spit-slicked lips. Their breaths intermingled and as Jack became aware once again of the rest of his body, he found that their hips had started to grind together. The realization pulled a groan from his throat and he tilted his head back, gasping as he increased the friction that pulled against his aching cock.

"Jack..." Will murmured. Immediately their eyes locked and the pirate caught sight of the twinge of fear. Regretfully he slowed the pace again, smiling slightly when Will looked at him doubtfully. He decided he would have to kiss away all those fears, a job he definitely was looked forward to.

-----

TBC

-----


	12. Twelve

Ocean Soul

**Part** 12 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Edited: January 18, 2008_

**Twelve**

He could definitely get used to this, Jack decided the following morning. His lips turned up in a smile as Will brushed butterfly kisses over his face and neck, so charmingly sweet and innocent that it made the action that much better than any orgasm. The younger man snuggled tightly against Jack's side, one arm slung over the pirate's chest and his fingers toying with the ends of black dreadlocks.

A perfect way to begin a day, truly.

For once, Fate decided not to play the cruel trick of inopportune timing and allowed the blossoming couple a good hour in bed without interruption. Soft murmurs of conversation occasionally rose to break the stillness of the air, but most of the time went by with gentle caressing one another's bodies, exploring silently the planes of unfamiliar flesh. In short time, one would be the skilled navigator of the map of the other. An outside observer, if able to follow the history of both men, would be able to see the incredible possibilities further bonding would lead to.

When finally they dressed and exited the cabin to face the Caribbean sun in full, there was no shame, no redness of cheeks, nor avoidance of eyes. It somehow seemed the most natural thing to have the new crewmember and the captain exiting the same cabin that they had entered the prior night. No crude comments or jokes passed about either aloud or in whispers; there was nothing to poke fun at. Something simply beautiful in the energy that surrounded the two when they stood close lent a sense of calm to an observer.

-----

"Capt'n!"

"Aye?" Jack raised a hand to shade his eyes against the setting sun as he looked up at the man perched high in the ropes about the main mast.

"Ana's sig'lin' from shore – they're 'ere!"

The announcement added a chill of anticipation to the air. Will's head jerked up with the call, and he quickly turned to face Jack. The pirate captain had stilled, as if needing time to let the information sink in.

He looked to Will first. When their eyes met, Will felt a block of ice settle in his stomach.

_Don't look like that,_ he begged. _Don't show me dread, don't show regret._ He needed Jack's strength most of all, to see the flaws now seemed almost too much to bear.

As if receiving the message, Jack turned away, breaking eye contact completely as he started shouting orders.

"This is it, mates! Prepare the boats. You three, remain on board. You know the plan. Will, come with me."

-----

"Wha' experience have you with a gun, luv?"

Will turned the pistol over in his hands, intelligent eyes taking in each curve and minute detail. "Not much, only what Ana and Marty had time to show me," he answered. Slowly he raised his gaze to look Jack in the eye. "I'm skilled with the blade."

Jack nodded, turning to a wooden chest where he had placed Will's creations the day he'd been discovered. He'd seen the lad practicing by himself on deck and the occasional spar with one of the crew.

"Take yer sword and keep the pistol. Lookin' threatenin' may do well enough."

Will accepted the blade silently, but the gentle caress he ran over the flat of the blade proved that he had missed the quality of such craftsmanship.

-----

"What are your plans?" Will asked quietly as Jack rowed them towards the entrance to a set of caves. He busied himself lighting the lantern they would soon need, avoiding any potential looks the pirate cast him. He didn't want to admit to the chill of apprehension that crawled through his veins, filling every inch of his body with anxiety.

"Le' me 'andle it, luv. You jus' keep yer mouth shut 'n don' do anything... stupid."

Will's lips twitched upwards at the latter, and he raised his eyes momentarily to take in Jack's profile.

"Alright," he murmured.

Jack caught his gaze. "Do you trust me?"

Without hesitation, "Yes."

The lantern soon became their only source of light as they passed into the rocky cavern.

They kept silent in the ensuing boat ride through the caves. Will's wide eyes took in the shimmering gold, silver, and jewels decorating the bottom of the shallow water, piling over long-decayed skeletons. Jack watched the younger man with a smile.

A short time later they found the rowboats of the _Pearl_, beached on a small, sand-covered stone shelf. Will got out to help pull their boat into place. They stood still for a few moments, water up to their ankles, staring at one another. Unease lurked behind Jack's usually cocky expression; Will's fear appeared a little more obviously. With only a miniscule twitch for preamble, their arms locked around one another and lips met wildly, desperately. Who had initiated the impassioned kiss couldn't be discerned.

Will pulled back first, gasping quietly, eyes closed. He nestled his face against Jack's neck. "Let's finish this," he whispered, lips brushing over tanned skin.

A weak chuckle escaped the pirate's lips as he caressed the back of the younger man's head. "Aye. 'N then we're pickin' up where we left off."

Will grinned.

-----

Barbossa was an exceptionally shady character amongst a group renowned as thieves, rapists, and murderers. Efficiently manipulative with his knowledge of human nature, it hadn't been especially difficult to undermine "Captain" Jack Sparrow's authority on the _Black Pearl_ a decade ago. Power and control fell into his skeletal, greedy hands and he held it with a firm grasp – tight enough to keep his power stable, but not so tight as to let it slip away.

Despite his innumerable devilish qualities, it must be said that the man had a good head. For years he had kept a crew of cursed men in line, without even an attempt at mutiny (although, admittedly, he rid himself of competition early, immediately after marooning Jack). He had been the one who puzzled through the particulars of the curse plaguing the crew's dark souls, and he who set to work quickly on bringing about the end of the spell.

For years the crew followed the calling of blood money haunting the pockets of innkeepers, bodices of whores, and the purses of upstanding gentlemen. Wherever the _Pearl_ went, a bloody trail of wreckage followed. Through it all, the crew followed enthusiastically, roaring war cries as they descended upon their victims in search of profit along with the small pieces of coin that would aid in freeing their souls.

Yet all along the problem concerning one former crewmember who had met a watery end soon after the appropriation of cursed treasure remained. Bootstrap Bill Turner had a change of heart a couple weeks following the mutiny. He had only temporarily been enchanted by the dangerous seduction Barbossa wove. To his former wife – years past he had sent back his rings to her – he slipped a coin and a note. It had been mere instinct that had made him do so, and the pirates sealed their own fate. The coin lost itself in the wealthy society of London, far from the senses of Caribbean pirates. And they were one man short to pay his blood debt – the only crewmember who hadn't. But what could they do? The ocean had long kept Bootstrap in her belly and un-dead or not, he stayed far beyond their reach in her depths.

In any case, this little problem lingered underneath more immediate lusts for the majority of the crew, only Barbossa concerned himself over the matter constantly. He knew that when it came time for the last coin to be returned, there would be hell to pay, and so he prepared himself over the years for his retaliation against the accusations that would come.

It just so happened that during the _Interceptor_'s wait for the damned crew, the second to last coin had been retrieved. The _Pearl_'s crew gathered once again at Isla de Muerta, offering back to the so-called "heathen" gods three gold coins.

One left.

Barbossa knew he would be facing the hounds of Hell that day once the crew realized that only one coin remained. Demands of blood pay would again come into question. However, a plan had begun developing in his conniving mind, and it concerned Turner's family, abandoned in London. Bill had been a social fellow, openly recalling tales of a romantic life with a lass he had ended up marrying. While the rings had been returned, a child had yet lived. That would have to do.

-----

TBC

-----


	13. Thirteen

Ocean Soul

**Part** 13 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Revised January 18, 2008_

**Thirteen **– _some dialogue within directly from CotBP as heard and read in subtitles_

"All hope abandon ye who enter here," Will murmured as he crept along the shadowed rock wall with Jack.

The pirate captain glanced back at him with a frown, concern etched with his eyebrows. Will gave him a small smile of assurance; it was just a saying, after all, something from Elizabeth's young imagination years ago when she talked about adventures on the high seas.

As they continued deeper into the caves, Will could hear the sound of excited whooping and shouting. Jack scrambled up an incline of rock covered in gold coins; Will followed. Carefully he raised his head so that he could peek over the edge to look into a wide open cavern, piled high with gold, silver, and chests bursting with jewels. Water broke up the rock formations into little islands, all surrounding one gigantic mound in the approximate center of the cave.

At the top of the mound Will had his first look at Barbossa. He was a tall, formidable-looking man dressed in a long, dark coat and a wide-brimmed hat with an extravagant feather curving along its dome. His hair hung in ragged strands to his shoulders; his beard tangled even worse. Pockmarks and scars decorated the man's face. A decorated pistol handle stuck out from the sash and belt covering the man's waist. The sword in the sheath at his side appeared to have been appropriated from someone of great wealth, given the filigree of the cage guard. On the man's left shoulder sat a small, clothed monkey hunched over a glittering piece of gold clutched in its paws.

"Gentlemen, the time has come! Our salvation is nigh!"

Will marveled at the power the man wielded over his audience. Barbossa peppered his speech with grand and purposeful gesticulations; it reminded Will of a stage performance he had seen in his childhood on an outing with his mother's family.

"Our torment is near an end. For nigh ten years we've been tested an' tried, an' each man of you here has proved his mettle a hundred times over an' a hundred times again! Punished we were, the lot of us. Disproportionate to our crimes! Every last piece that went astray we have slaved to return."

The monkey on his shoulder squawked noisily as it let three gold coins fall into the stone chest filled with the cursed treasure. "881 coins we found an' need now only find the last," crowed Barbossa. "An' who among us has paid the blood sacrifice owed to the heathen gods?"

Amid the chorus of cheers and shouts a handful of men fell silent and glanced suspiciously over the crowd and then back to Barbossa.

"An' 'oose blood must yet be paid?" demanded an angry voice.

"Good..." Will started in surprise to feel Jack's murmur against his ear. "We've the last coin 'n Barbossa's welcome is wearin' thin."

Turning his head slightly, Will attempted to read Jack's expression from close up.

"Any ideas?" Will whispered.

The protests grew in number and volume beyond their golden shield.

"Yeh brought us 'ere for nothin'!"

Barbossa snarled, "I won't take questionin' or second guesses from the likes of ye, Mister Twigg."

"Who's t' blame? Every decision you've made has led us from bad t' worse!"

"It was you 'oo sent Bootstrap to th' depths!"

"And it's you who brought us here in the first place!"

Jack tugged at Will's sleeve to lead him back into the stone maze. Just short of entering into the treasure cavern Jack halted abruptly. Leaning close to Will he hissed, "Wait for the opportune moment..." He pressed a firm kiss to the corner of Will's lips before sneaking into the back of the crowd.

"If any coward here dare challenge me, let him speak!" Barbossa shouted. Will's fingers curved tightly around the familiar handle of the sword at his side. With his other hand he withdrew the pistol and hefted the butt of the weapon into the curve of his palm as he waited with bated breath.

-----

"Lowered to pickin' on yellowbellies? Tha's a sorry sight, mate!" Jack's voice carried over the crowd and its familiarity seemed to send a rush of confusion through the angry men.

Barbossa's eyes narrowed as he searched the crowd. "Who said that?" he demanded.

"'Cuse me," Jack said, firmly pushing his way through the sturdy ranks of his mutinous crew. "Pardon..."

"Y-you! You're s'posed ter be dead!" someone cried, pointing incredulously as Jack made his first step into an open gap in the crowd.

Frowning, the pirate captain looked down at himself and picked at his clothes. Looking back up, he met the other's gaze. "Am I no'? Well, then..." he turned as if to go.

"Bring him here!" Barbossa shouted, his sword drawn and pointing to Jack.

Jack fended off the hands reaching to grab him. "Easy, lads, I can walk by me onesies."

"How the blazes did you get off that island?" Barbossa growled as Jack approached with a handful of crewmembers standing nearby with their weapons drawn.

Smiling brilliantly, allowing the light of the torches to glint off his gold teeth, Jack replied, "You forgot somethin' important when you left me there." He made a scolding sound with his tongue and shook his head in disappointment.

"What was that?" Barbossa prompted with clear impatience.

"Why, I'm Capt'n Jack Sparrow!"

Rolling his eyes dramatically, Barbossa announced to the group at large, "I won't be making that mistake again! Gents, ye all remember _Capt'n_ Jack Sparrow!" A rowdy chorus of affirmative growls seemed to shake the very walls of the cavern. "Kill him," Barbossa ordered, bored.

"You'd not be wantin' to do tha'!" Jack exclaimed, carefully pushing the knife near his throat away with one hand.

"Oh, I think I do," Barbossa assured, eyes narrowing as he prepared to skewer the man with his sword.

"No, I really don't think so." Jack somehow managed to step closer without being poked and in a lowered voice confided, "There's still blood to be paid, ain't there."

Barbossa drew close and hissed, "Not yers, so I can spill yer guts anywhere I like." Something in Jack's glittering dark eyes stayed his hand. He growled, "Ye know whose blood we need."

Jack's smile spread slowly until he reflected the spitting image of a cat who'd gotten into the creamery. "I know whose blood you need."

Barbossa cast a searing glare over Jack, his hatred of the man coming off in waves. But Barbossa knew how to keep in check such emotions in order to secure his goals, and at the moment Jack had information that he wanted. Although that didn't mean that he would simply let Jack take control. Smiling cruelly at his former captain, Barbossa ordered his men still gathered below,

"Gents, take a walk. Show ol' Jack's new mates a good time."

Jack looked perplexed as he watched the men start to move as directed. "Y'know," he remarked, turning slightly to Barbossa, "it migh' not be in yer best interests to go out reckless like. I migh' 'ave the one you need aboard."

Barbossa studied him for a few moments, then barked, "Take 'em all alive!" Returning to Jack, he sneered, "Now pray tell, wha' did ye bring us?"

Seemingly impossible to frighten, Jack merely beamed and practically bounced to the open chest of Aztec gold like a child investigating a new plaything.

"This 'ere is wha's caused all the trouble? Why, Barbossa, what harmless-looking trinkets." He grabbed a handful, clinking them together and then dropping them one by one back into the chest as he continued to chatter, "Really, I must thank you. Droppin' me by me onesies on that lovely lil' isle got me out of partakin' in yer curse. What a shame. Ironic, innit? You dump me 'n I come back..." He grinned. "An' I 'ave yer cure."

"Ye have the child. Where's the gold?"

Jack strolled around the chest, his fingers still playing with the pieces. "Oh, there is that..."

Barbossa clenched his fingers tightly into fists to keep from strangling the man before him. Suddenly the monkey on his shoulder started screeching and pointed across the cavern. He turned quickly and caught sight of a white shirtsleeve as someone ducked back around a rock.

"Get that!" he shouted to Twigg and his companion standing idly nearby. Barbossa jerked his thumb towards Jack, indicating that the other two remaining crewmen should keep a close eye on Jack.

"Unhand me you lily-livered..."

"What's this, Jack?" Barbossa scolded, tone condescending as his men dragged forward a slim young man. His malicious smile grew when he saw a flicker of worry in the dark eyes of the pirate poised by the cursed chest.

"Cabin boy," Jack bit back, playing with a smirk of his own. "Bi' 'ard of hearin' regardin' orders."

Barbossa chuckled darkly as he had his men bring the boy up the mound of gold. He lightly drew the tip of his sword along a path from chin to beltline. "Well, Jack, ye always did have an eye for the beauts."

From the corner of his eye he could see Jack tense. Barbossa sheathed his sword and stepped into the boy's personal space and grabbed his chin. His lips parted in a threatening smile as he looked the boy over and roughly patted his free hand along the body as if inspecting a horse.

"An' does 'ee warm yer bed, Jack?" Barbossa asked with a poisoned lilt. His eyes never strayed from the boy's face, which had drained of all color. The warm brown irises nearly disappeared with the largely dilated pupils now fixed on him in fear. Something about the young man's features seemed familiar...

The clash of swords and shifting treasure startled Barbossa. As he turned, the prisoner abruptly brought his knee up hard into the pirate's groin, throwing the tall man off balance and sending him rolling down the opposite side of the mound.

-----

TBC

-----


	14. Fourteen

Ocean Soul

**Part** 14 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_Revised January 18, 2008_

**Fourteen**

Jack quickly joined Will's efforts to knock off the crewmembers holding him back. "You alright?" the captain asked, a warm hand squeezing Will's shoulder briefly before slipping the piece of Aztec gold into the younger man's hand.

Nodding in silent reply, Will glanced at Jack with a question in his eyes.

"Opportune moment," Jack hissed before lunging forward at Twigg as he reappeared near the mound's top.

As Jack pressed his advantage, he heard the clash of swords and knew Will had prepared to hold his ground. Twigg tripped over his own feet and made a small splash as he fell into the shallow water surrounding the treasures of the cavern. Barbossa appeared in his stead, his clothing rumpled and face contorted with rage. Jack grinned tightly and lunged, only to be blocked.

"What'll ye do, Jack?" Barbossa taunted. "There be but one mortal 'ere." As if to prove his point he sidestepped Jack's next move and passed through a patch of early moonlight filtering through a hole in the cavern ceiling. His fine coat appeared in tatters; gaping, moth-eaten holes revealed dirty bones with bits of flesh still clinging to the surface.

"We'll see." Jack said nothing more, his concentration fixing on footwork and swordplay.

The cavern echoed with the sounds of metal striking metal and the jingle of gold and jewels sliding against one another as feet pressed into the loose ground. Jack focused on his target and did his best to ignore the occasional glimpses he had of Will and his opponents.

He and Barbossa danced a deadly waltz toward the back wall of the cavern where the rock formations slanted up. Jack found himself backing up along the natural ramp and the grace of his steps started to lose their former rhythm. A change in the sounds of the fighting slightly below and to the left of his position made him risk a precious moment to glance at Will. He saw the lad clawing his way hastily up the center mound toward the chest.

"Ye're slippin', Jack," Barbossa said coolly as he pressed his advantage during the distraction.

The sword flew from Jack's hand and Barbossa's carefully maneuvered foot guaranteed that he landed flat on his back, lying precariously along the rock edge. Barbossa placed one booted foot on Jack's chest and used his sword to tilt Jack's chin up.

"Tell what ye know an' I might let ye live."

"Barbossa!"

Will's voice cut through the air like a thunderclap; only then did Jack realize he couldn't hear the other sounds of fighting. The instant Barbossa's head snapped up to glare at the interruption a shot rang out and Jack could feel the splatter of warm blood drop onto his face and neck.

Above him, Barbossa wore a shocked expression. His sword dropped and he clutched at the bullet wound oozing blood from his midriff. His eyes lifted and stared across to Will who stood stiffly beside the chest of Aztec gold, his pistol still raised in steady hands.

"Bootstrap…" Jack heard the man murmur before he toppled over and slid into the water below.

"Jack!" Will called.

He could hear the lad hurrying over piles of treasure. Jack shifted himself into a better position to sit up. Will reached his side and held out a helping hand as his gaze quickly ran a critical eye over the pirate's body.

"That was a might embarrassin'," Jack announced, brushing off his trousers before bending to retrieve his sword. Will didn't speak; Jack glanced over hesitantly and found Will staring down at where Barbossa's body lay half-in, half-out of the shallow water, dark blood staining the gold beneath his body a rust red.

"You saved my life, luv," Jack murmured, reaching a hand out to brush against Will's arm.

Startled out of his reverie, Will met Jack's gaze. Slowly, he smiled, a bit unsure. "I listened to some good advice."

Jack chuckled merrily as he sheathed his sword and tossed an arm around the lad's shoulders. "We'll be jus' fine, luv. C'mon, let's see what the bastard's been collectin'."

Will allowed Jack to lead him into the far reaches of the cavern where bejeweled crowns and shiny statues had been tucked away, but he frowned. "What about the crew?"

"They'll be fine," Jack assured, waving off the worry. "Ana could take on the lot of 'em all by 'er onesies. We no longer 'ave to worry. So..." He grinned and turned so that he could tug at Will's shirt with both hands. "Try on this." His hand disappeared for a second, then returned with a thin gold circlet adorned with at least a dozen garnets and rubies. Jack placed it askew on Will's head then drew the beloved face in close to whisper, "I've got you 'n I 'ave me ship back. Nothin' else matters." His hand slipped around to cup the back of Will's head and brought him forward. "Now, where were we?"

Will brought up a hand to shove in protest at Jack's shoulder, but when they broke apart from the heated kiss he couldn't come up with a sufficient complaint. Jack grinned and laid claim to the pouting lower lip. He slowly slid his free hand around Will's hip and stroked up and down the tense back.

It didn't take long for Will's muscles to relax under the comforting touch. He reached out to wrap his arms around Jack and clutched the pirate's body closer. They gasped for air around kisses. They struggled to remain standing as their bodies pressed closer, searching for a better position to best capture the heated pressure thrumming through their veins. Eventually their equilibrium failed and the two men fell onto the piles of coins and jewels. Their lips parted momentarily as muttered curses and gripes broke forth.

Will shifted his body, focusing on the heat pooling pleasantly in his groin. His legs parted wider and he flexed his hips, rubbing against Jack's leg. Complaints quickly shut up, Jack maneuvered their bodies so that he lay on his back, allowing Will freedom to take control if he so wished.

Capturing the younger man's lips with his, Jack lifted his own hips in a wavelike pattern to encourage the delicious friction bringing them both closer to the edge. Will groaned softly into his mouth and Jack swallowed it willingly. Anxious hands fought to loosen the trouser fastenings so that Jack could let his fingers delight in the feel of smooth, sweat-slicked skin. Will gasped, pulling his mouth away and turning his head until he panted directly into Jack's ear.

"That's it, luv," Jack murmured, using one hand to explore the soft skin while the other firmly pressed at Will's backside to ensure their groins met with firm, deep strokes.

"Oh... oh, God... O-o-oh Jack!" Will trembled, his upper body arching up and away as his hips thrust downward sharply.

Wordless encouragements passed Jack's lips as he got lost in the bliss of orgasm, his fingers digging into soft flesh while he came.

"Luv... Gods, luv..." Jack rubbed his hands up Will's back as they lay recovering. He nuzzled gently at his lover's ear and dragged sloppy kisses anywhere he could reach. "Fantastic, luv. Magnificent, Will," he whispered urgently into the whorl of the ear against his lips.

Jack felt gentle kisses press against fabric as Will sought the shirt's opening to reach skin. With his target finally gained, Will kissed longer and dragged his tongue along the skin, sending shivers of delight through Jack's system.

"Love you," Jack murmured, petting Will's hair and clutching his head as Will began to search further under his shirt and latched onto his sensitive, scarred nipple. He gasped and arched up. "Will..."

"Hmm," came the mumbled response. Will's fingers rested against Jack's lips, silencing any further words. "...Taste good."

Jack laughed and his mouth opened. Will didn't remove his fingers, just let them slip in. As he continued to press teasing kisses and licks over Jack's chest, the pirate decided he'd get some payback. He sucked slowly on the fingers in his mouth and ran his tongue around each individual fingertip. He felt Will exhale in surprise, the breath ghosting over moist skin and sending new chills through his body.

"Luv, you'll be the death of me," Jack said. Not that he was complaining. He moved a leg to wrap around Will's thighs as he started thrusting up again.

Will groaned, but somehow managed to go back to what he'd been doing.

"Yes, luv... oh gods, yes..."

-----

It took the efforts of both Will and Jack to replace the heavy stone lid atop the chest of cursed gold.

"Begun by blood, by blood undone," Will uttered under his breath as the lid noisily slid into place.

"Le' me see yer 'and, luv, " Jack instructed, coming to stand beside his lover.

Amidst their earlier activities they had failed to tend the cut Will had made across his palm to repay the blood debt needed to break the curse. Jack tenderly brushed a thumb over the calloused skin of Will's palm as he studied the red scab built up where the sword had sliced.

"I wan' Ana to see to it back on the ship." He brushed his lips across Will's forehead. "Come. You've yet to see the _Pearl_." His eyes glittered with excitement.

Will grinned in return, caught by Jack's energy. "Please lead the way, Captain," he said, making a sweeping bow as he did.

"Thank'ee, luv. Righ' this way..."

As they neared the bottom of the mound, Will abruptly gripped Jack's shoulder and tugged insistently. Mildly annoyed, Jack turned around, prepared to reprimand. His intentions quickly changed at the expression of horror on his lover's face.

"Jack," Will hissed, glancing nervously to his left, "_look_. He's gone!"

"Wha' are you—" Realization sent a wave of chills down his spine as Jack stared at the very absent, blood-stained place where a body should have been. "Bugger..."

A high-pitched shriek made him jump. Whirling towards the sound, Jack yanked out his pistol and pulled back the hammer. "Bloody monkey!" he cursed as the furry little creature leapt to the top of an open treasure chest. Gritting his teeth, he fired at the obnoxious creature, some of his frustration eased as the furball rolled down the hill of gold.

Moments later, the tiny body shivered and the monkey pulled itself to its feet. Jack's eyes widened in shock as the monkey screeched at him loudly and dashed away behind another chest. "Oh _hell_..."

"Jaaack..."

Would that it be a dream... Jack clenched his fists and turned around, dark glare fixed immediately on Barbossa.

"Seems I have more'n one thing ye be wantin'."

Will grunted softly in protest as the dagger under his chin bit into his skin.

-----

TBC

-----


	15. Fifteen

Ocean Soul

**Part** 15 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_January 18, 2008_

**Fifteen – **_brand new!_

_How the bloody 'ell—? _

Barbossa's arm held Will captive better than any iron could. "Really should've taught yer boy to shoot, Jack."

"Ne'er came up," he muttered, trying to wrap his brain around the situation.

"I bet not, wha' with all 'is _distractions_." Barbossa drew the word out and moved the dagger just enough to make a small slice in Will's skin. "What to do now, Jack? I do love to see ye flail about. Go ahead 'n try – what do ye have t' offer so's I don't off the whelp?"

Jack could hardly bear to take his eyes away from Will. The brunette had one arm pinned behind his back, trapped between his body and Barbossa's. His free hand kept clenching and unclenching, sometimes catching the edge of the tall captain's coat. Jack tried to run the chances of Will managing to slide away so he could— Hell. He'd used his pistol's one bloody shot on a damn monkey.

Apparently reading his mind, Barbossa chuckled darkly and eyed the useless pistol still held in the air. "Put 'er away. Kept that shot for ten years 'n ye waste it? Not like you, Jack." From his lips, Sparrow's name sounded worse than filth and made said pirate's gut clench.

Gritting his teeth against very unhelpful dialogue, Jack slowly squatted and set his pistol aside. As he went down he surreptitiously glanced for a discarded gun, something left from the earlier fight. Nothing. He stood up just as slowly and held his hands up.

"Alrigh', mate. What's on yer mind?"

Barbossa sneered; he pulled Will more firmly against him, forcing the young man to go up on his toes. "How much is 'e worth?"

Jack shrugged and affected nonchalance. "Who's to say he's worth anythin'?"

"Tell me," Barbossa said, voice like the slipperiest silk, "tha' 'e's not important t' ye, Jack." He shifted the dagger and pressed it threateningly at the bottom of Will's ear.

With a struggle Jack kept his expression in check. "Worth more to me lady-sailor. She's more'n a might prickly when 'er lad's messed with."

"Really." Barbossa traced the dagger across Will's jaw with a pressure just short of drawing blood. "Tha's a poor threat. An' ye're lyin'." In a sharp movement the blade opened a deep cut at the chin that blossomed in a flower of red before trailing down Will's pale neck. Jack swallowed hard and fought the urge to charge.

"Ye're not even tryin'. Might want t' fix tha' 'fore I decide t' cut off somethin' important." The dagger moved up to rest against Will's nose. "Think fast, Jack."

-----

The man behind him reeked of brine and decay; the putrid breath befitted one of the undead. Will kept his eyes on Jack even though his lover had broken away from his gaze some time ago. He focused on Jack to keep himself from thinking too hard about the blade digging into his skin, particularly the vulnerable flesh of his throat.

Barbossa had locked them in to something of a stalemate— Will couldn't imagine what Jack had to offer that his former first mate would accept. By now the _Interceptor's_ crew surely had won and secured the _Pearl_. If Jack and Will didn't return soon, AnaMaria would come after them. Any interference and Barbossa probably wouldn't care to keep Will around, bargaining chip or no. And he couldn't be killed without again depositing coin and blood into the cursed chest. An idea tickled at the back of his mind at that thought but he couldn't grasp it quite yet.

The cut on his chin stung for a few moments and then throbbed in time with the blood pounding in his ears. Will eased his hand back a little further, his fist closing around what felt like Barbossa's tunic... He couldn't grasp enough cloth to effectively tug the man off-balance, and honestly he didn't know what else he could try.

_Jack, please_, he thought desperately. _Give me something to work with._

At that moment Jack met his stare and something about the shuttered expression made an awful hole in Will's gut.

"What say you," Jack began, eyes slipping away from Will's face, "join us in seein' what's 'appened out there. The _Interceptor's_ a righ' winner, fastest, they say, 'n a good disguise for slippin' by the king's navy. I'm sure you won't miss some of yer crew?"

"Wha' remains of my crew 'n yer second choice ship?" Barbossa snorted, sending a rush of rotting breath against the side of Will's face. "An' I'm t' trust ye not t' sink us soon as ye can?"

Jack spread his hands wide, face a mask of innocence. "We're still bargainin', ay?"

Barbossa ran the dagger down Will's cheek, back to his throat where with just enough pressure he could abruptly end the young man's life. When he next spoke, the voice went directly into Will's ear. "Yer Capt'n sees fit t' leave ye in my care. What say ye, whelp?" To Jack – "Ye'll see my men t' the ship 'n stay yer distance. May be with some waves 'tween us I'll see fit t' throw back yer boy. Arguments, Jack?"

Will swallowed the sick feeling that rose up as Jack tilted his head pensively. The dagger's blade slid along his skin with deadly promise.

"I get me ship back, you get a lovely boat – I mean, ship. You, yer crew; me, my crew. Sails up, ship ou'—Then send poor Ana back 'er lad in'a dinghy at noon. Accord?" Jack stuck out his hand. Barbossa didn't move. "I'd like to shake on it, mate."

"Ye won't ge' an openin', Jack. But we've an accord, providin' ye don't try anythin' foolish."

Jack eased forward and sidled close, hand dancing out of Will's sight; Barbossa's grip on the dagger tightened. _What're you doing, Jack? _A moment later, Will felt a familiar embossed coin slip into his palm.

-----

"'ands off me," Barbossa snapped. Jack, hands and all, danced away, expression too amused to be apologetic.

"Righ', no huggin' or comradely slap, either. Makes it 'ard to trust you, mate." Jack pursed his lips and strolled away, keenly aware that Barbossa had turned to keep him in sight. Will had one piece of the puzzle, now the real trick would be to gain the second and get both to fit...

Jack kept walking, playing up his act of thinking, moving further around the piles of treasure – past the bloodstained gold and farther—

"Superstitious, Jack?" Barbossa sneered. Jack turned his head and noted that the dagger had moved away from immediate threat.

"Can you blame me? Wha' with cursed gold 'n all." He turned around fully and beckoned, "C'mon, Hector, give me 'and a shake 'n we're set."

Barbossa gave a theatric roll of his eyes. He shoved Will away before striding forward to Jack's outstretched hand. Jack kept his gaze on his enemy as they locked hands; to give Will more time he clutched Barbossa's forearm with his other hand and reiterated the rules of the accord in his lengthy, talk-you-in-circles way.

-----

As soon as he'd started to fall, Will shifted himself so that he could roll naturally to the handful of stained coins. Still clutching the medallion, he scooped up a few of the blood-marked coins. As fast and as subtly as he could, Will climbed the golden pile back to the Aztec chest. Using his momentum, he shoved hard at one edge and thanked whatever gods were listening that a large enough space opened to drop the coins in. Just in time, he slid back down the mound so that when Barbossa turned, he looked to be scrambling for an escape.

"Fool boy." Barbossa kicked Will in the ribs. "Up, now 'n behave." He hauled the young man up and then glared at Jack. "Ye're included in tha'."

Jack scratched at his beard. "Nothin' to do wit' it, mate. 'Fraid he's a spitfire like 'is Ana."

Barbossa gave Will a good shake before motioning Jack ahead of them. "I promise yer Ana she won't like th' whelp's condition if ye don't keep t' our agreement."

"Understood," Jack cheerfully agreed.

He started whistling and Barbossa cursed under his breath. Will kept his head down and breathed a sigh of relief.

-----

"You...you son of a bitch!" AnaMaria hissed, slapping her captain across the face with all her strength. "'Ow could yeh? Barbossa's never gonna hand 'im back!" She shrugged off Gibbs' half-hearted attempt to pull her back. Jack frowned as he rubbed his stinging cheek.

"Blimey, luv, couldda bit me tongue." He wisely stepped back as she threatened him silently with a raised fist. This time she'd knock his teeth out!

"Wait, girl," Gibbs said, "thar's always a plan."

Jack nodded in satisfaction and went to the wheel of his beloved _Pearl_. "Thank you, Mister Gibbs. In a moment, I'm goin' to do the unthinkable and give you the 'elm, darlin'." He nodded solicitously at Ana. "An' I'll be watchin' our ne'er-do-well friend 'cross the way. Gibbs, I want to be ready to fire – but ge' it done quiet-like, savvy?"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Gibbs readily agreed.

"An' when do yeh think it's okay to fire with Will o'er there?" AnaMaria demanded, not trusting whatever half-cocked plan was stewing in Jack's mind.

"Opportune moment, luv. Now 'andle me _Pearl_ gentle as a mum with 'er babe. Poor girl'll need my care soon's we take care of 'er false capt'n."

Grudgingly, Ana took the helm and watched Gibbs descend to the main deck and casually make his way through the pirates milling about uncertainly. She kept a sharp eye on Jack, who'd pulled out his spyglass and approached the rail. His eyes narrowed against the sun's earliest beams then turned the glass toward the _Interceptor_ a good two ship-lengths away from starboard.

"If 'e comes back lookin' worse'n 'e turned up, I'm skinnin' yer hide, Jack Sparrow."

Jack muttered, "Maybe I'd let you, luv."

Ana snorted and felt some of her tension ease. Even though he'd gone for the _Pearl_ first, he hadn't given up on the boy. A damn good thing, that, since she'd have left him to Barbossa's mercy. Still, Jack's plans had better pan out.

-----

TBC

-----


	16. Sixteen

Ocean Soul

**Part** 16 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_January 18, 2008_

**Sixteen – **_brand new!_

He'd lost one of his few truly capable men, his bo'sun, to Sparrow's oddball crew; it was the only loss he regretted. Though it couldn't be helped, Barbossa felt more than a little irritated at being forced to assign a crew member to spying on Jack while he questioned the boy. He had yet to determine how to interpret the accord to suit his best interests.

"How'd a fool rogue like Sparrow manage a catch like ye?" Barbossa prodded, circling the boy bound hand-and-foot at the main mast. "Steal ye away in th' night 'n seduce ye to 'is side?"

Will stubbornly refused to look up.

"Ye fuck 'im yet?" Barbossa leaned over, voice lowering conspiratorially. "Always could 'ear th' shoutin' from 'is cabin. Does 'e still beg like a two-bit whore?" The boy jerked his head aside, shutting his eyes and hunching his shoulders in a clear attempt to ignore the taunts. Barbossa grinned, knowing he had found the right weakness.

"Aye, th' good Capt'n plays with 'is pets a while 'fore they tire. An' if a lad tickles 'is fancy, they get th' rogerin' o' their life. 'E take ye 'ard, whelp? I wonder, were ye a virgin? 'Ard to tell wit' this face." Barbossa grasped Will firmly by the chin, delighting in the grimace of pain as his fingers pinched the fresh cut only now scabbing over. A defiant glare met his gaze but just below the surface lay a turmoil of emotions, fear and disgust foremost. "Scared ye 'alf to death, did 'e?" Barbossa laughed at the thought and turned the boy's head this way and that, looking beneath the recent scrapes to imagine a previously unmarred face.

"Ye're prettier than yer father. No wonder ol' Jack went for ye, 'e did always seem t' 'ave a certain... tension 'round Bootstrap. Could be ye're only fillin' a fantasy, boy."

Apparently fed up, Will hissed, "Next time you die you won't get another chance."

Barbossa smiled widely. "Is tha' a threat, young Turner? 'Case ye forgot, I renewed the curse." Pleased with himself, he slipped a hand into his pocket to finger the co—

The boy had the audacity to grin. Bloody hell and curse to the depths Jack Sparrow and his slut! "We'll wipe tha' smile off yer face for good, boy," he hissed, bringing out the dagger from his belt. Sure enough, the boy attempted to draw away, smugness wiped away in acknowledgement of the imminent threat of losing his lips. "I'm sure Jack'll love t' see ye after this."

"Cap'n!" Raggetti squawked, fumbling with the spyglass in one hand and popping his fake eye back into place. "Cap'n thar's ships on th' way – navy ships!"

-----

"Cap'n!" Jack quickly turned away from his intent study of his nemesis' ship to meet AnaMaria's strained call. "Look ahead."

Returning the spyglass to his eye, Jack focused in on the two sets of fine white sails. If not mistaken, and he usually got his ships right, one of the navy vessels was none other than the _Dauntless_ that had provided the distraction needed to ease away on the _Interceptor_ from Port Royale.

"Bloody lobsterbacks. Hells!" Jack slammed his fist against the rail, then silently apologized to his beloved ship for the outburst.

Gibbs and other crew members gathered along the _Pearl's_ rails, staring uncertainly at the ships on the horizon. The older sailor came up the stairs to stand beside Jack. "Cap'n, couldn't we use this to an advantage? Navy ships'll be concerned 'bout capturin' pirates an' freein' their captives. If we pull back, could jus' let the royal lads 'ave at it. At port we could get the boy back."

Jack hissed through his teeth, hating the decision he needed to make. He didn't want to risk his _Pearl_ in a fight against two, possibly three, ships when he hadn't familiarized himself with her changes and condition as yet. True that the navy would see to Will, recognizing him as a victim...

_Port Royale_, an inner voice reminded him.

Another voice continued, _You said you'd go back 'n take care of those ghosts if 'e wanted you to._

The first voice, fainter now, protested that hadn't been the point it wanted to make.

Grimly Jack gave a curt nod. He could either chance some discomfort for his lover or the livelihood of his ship and rest of his crew. _Forgive me, darlin'._

"Pull out, Ana," he ordered.

She stared at him, stunned. In a moment her gaze turned flinty and she stepped away from the wheel. "Yeh'll be doin' that yerself, _Sir_."

Damn woman. "Get out of the way," he snapped, hating how easily his hands settled onto the wheel and turned. The _Pearl_ moved smoothly under his touch, recognizing his caress and accepting him like no other. He refused to look over his shoulder to watch the _Interceptor_ grow smaller in their wake.

-----

"Watch th' whelp!" Barbossa snapped at the lanky, one-eyed pirate and his much stouter companion. The captain stormed away, shouting orders as he went to take the helm.

Will took a moment to close his eyes and calm his racing heart. That had been very close— Barbossa's wild-eyed look had been utterly inhuman, and he feared he would have nightmares of the man for some time to come. With a little luck, Jack should be there to help.

"'Fink they saw us?" the lanky pirate asked.

The stout one grunted in annoyance. "Why else'd they be 'eading toward us?"

The ships – the _Royal Navy_ ships. Will opened his eyes. Oh. This did not bode well for the _Pearl_... _Unless_, he thought, _they've already turned away. _They could probably manage it, too, if the navy had realized this ship was their missing _Interceptor_. Although relieved to think that Jack and his friends were probably safe, his stomach turned over at the thought of being caught between a rock and a hard place – while bound, nonetheless.

"Roll out the cannons!" Barbossa boomed.

The pirate duo standing sentry over him fidgeted incessantly, particularly the lanky one. Will studied them silently, wondering just how keen Barbossa's crew were to give up their renewed lives and if he could work the situation to his advantage. Worth a try at least; any minute Barbossa would realize he might have a chance with holding Will as a hostage.

"You're outnumbered," Will said. He gazed at the navy vessels closing in but noticed from the corner of his eye how the pirates startled at his voice.

"So wot?"

"Been a long time since you had to worry about... You know, dying. Hasn't it?" The one-eyed pirate wrung his hands nervously. "They probably have full crews of naval men, all trained fighters and eager to get their ship back. What advantage could you have? The crew's diminished, your captain's mad, and you've nowhere to run." He turned his head and shrugged. The two pirates stared at him and he offered an apologetic smile. "I'd say it was nice to meet you, but it really hasn't been an enjoyable stay."

"Ooh, wha' should we do, Pintel?"

"Shut up!" muttered the stout man, nervously clutching the hilt of his cutlass. "No one crosses Barbossa!"

"Bu' I wanna get me that glass eye 'n stop at port, git a full course meal," the other whimpered. His good eye rolled from Pinel to Will and then to the helm where Barbossa had abandoned the wheel to someone else in favor of overseeing the canon preparation.

"If you surrender," Will reasoned calmly, "you'll have future opportunities to make an escape. Can't do that if you're dead."

Pintel hissed in annoyance. "Damn you, boy! Th' Capt'n would 'ave our 'eads for cannonballs!"

Keeping the urge to smirk in check, Will replied, "Then wait for the opportune moment."

One-eye scratched his head in confusion. "Oppo'tune? Tha's like sayin' th' perfect moment, righ'?"

The first boom of the navy's cannons drowned out Will's verbal reply. Instead he nodded and turned to watch the battle unfold. With any luck the navy would be more interested in capturing their stolen ship than sinking it and her crew. Given the chance, he knew that at least these two pirates would lay down their arms in surrender.

The sense of assurance soon faded and his thoughts drifted to Jack. He knew the pirate captain would have done what was best for his crew and ship, and that meant leaving Will behind. Part of him understood, but the more insistent voice argued that he'd been part of the crew.

-----

To Barbossa's great consternation, his crew gave up long before their due. The early complainers he stabbed with his own blade and fear alone kept the others loading up the cannons. They might want to surrender, but none would dare to attack the captain.

The navy ships closed in on either side, little the worse for wear despite the _Interceptor's_ attempts to wear them down. Knowing defeat would be inevitable, Barbossa determined he'd take out Jack's whelp before he went down; he planned on gutting the naval command as well.

Sword in one hand, pistol in the other, he reached the deck before the enemy managed to swing aboard, and he strode straight for the mast. He heard the first thud of sailors' feet hit the deck, but he only had eyes for the whelp—

"Wha' do ye think ye're doin'?" His voice dripped with a promise of death. Raggetti cowered away from untying Turner's bounds and tried to hide behind Pintel's shorter form. Pintel turned deathly pale, and the boy looked plenty terrified.

"See ye in 'ell, boy." Barbossa aimed his pistol and squeezed his finger—

For the second time in the past day he felt a bullet tear through his chest. This time, though, the shot was perfect. Barbossa had enough time to stare down at his chest in disbelief before the world vanished.

-----

"We surrender!" the lanky pirate squeaked, still attempting to hide behind his shorter friend. He held his hands up and waved them, just in case the navy men had missed the weapon-free appendages.

Will dragged his gaze away from Barbossa's body, heart pounding hard in his chest. This time he had to be dead, of course, but what if...? Christ. He stared at the group of sailors gathering up the remaining pirates and realized in a distant sort of way that he recognized some of these men.

"Mister Turner?" one of the officers asked skeptically, stepping around Barbossa to take a closer look. "What the devil are you doing here?"

"Where's... where's Jack?" he said, mind gone numb.

"Who?" The officer turned aside and called to someone across the deck. "Commodore, we have their hostage."

The appearance of Commodore Norrington, pristine wig only slightly askew and a single rip in his blue coat, seemed utterly surreal. Will barely noticed as someone finished untying his bonds.

"Mister Turner." The commodore sounded impatient, making Will think he hadn't been paying attention for some time. "Did these pirates kidnap you?"

"I... No. I mean, yes." Just not during the time period as these men understood it. "I'm sorry, I feel... ill." _For lack of a better word_, he thought dimly. Jack, Ana, the crew, and the _Pearl_ had gone. He didn't know where to begin searching for them.

"Lieutenant Groves, please see that Mister Turner gets some care and has a place to stay for our return to Port Royale."

Will stared numbly at Norrington, horror crawling up his spine at the thought of returning to... to... He wanted nothing to do with that place ever again! In his shocked state he completely missed the commodore's cool expression change with perplexity and unease.

"Come now, Mister Turner," the lieutenant guided, tone slightly patronizing but nonetheless kind. His hand on Will's elbow helped steer them toward the _Dauntless_ and promise of medical attention.

-----

TBC

-----


	17. Seventeen

Ocean Soul

**Part** 17 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

Standard **disclaimers** apply. This AU plot rules parallel to the first movie but isn't quite the same. By a fan, for fans.

**Rating**: Ranges from Teen to Adult/Mature.

**Pairing**: Jack/Will

**Summary**: An AU tale that weaves a rather bleak past for one Will Turner. When the young blacksmith apprentice stows away on the _Interceptor_ to get away from abuse, he didn't expect it to be taken over by pirates led by the notorious Jack Sparrow.

**Warnings**: Sexual harassment, abuse, and recovery from such

_January 18, 2008_

**Seventeen – **_brand new!_

"Come in, Mister Turner." Will stepped into the cabin and closed the door. He'd been steeling himself for the conversation ahead for days, knowing that he could not return to the way things used to be.

"Sir," he greeted and took the seat Norrington motioned him toward. The commodore poured them each a snifter of brandy and then joined Will at the small table. "Thank you," Will accepted, staring into his glass and watching the liquid gently slosh against the sides.

Norrington cleared his throat. "What is on your mind, Mister Turner?"

After taking a drink, Will met the other man's eyes and insisted, "Will, please."

"Very well. Will, would you care to tell me what transpired during your kidnapping?"

He had to hide a smile at that. Quickly he waved aside the question as unimportant. "I have some... reservations about returning to Port Royale, sir."

Norrington's eyebrow raised quizzically. "What are you concerns?"

What could he say? Even though Will had tried to run through this conversation in his head, he hadn't been able to figure out how to explain the danger he faced by returning. He stared critically at the commodore, weighing the man's venerability and trustworthiness. No matter the outcome of this conversation, he knew his time at Port Royale would be brief; with or without help he planned to find passage to another port, perhaps head to Tortuga where pirates were know to weigh anchor. There he would surely hear word of the _Pearl_.

"Will?"

Pulling his thoughts back to the present, he said, "I wish to ask for your help in ending my contract – I am but a year short of my apprenticeship." His gaze traveled to the commodore's sword belt and studied the handle of the blade he'd fashioned what felt like a lifetime ago. "I have learned all I can from the shop and assure you I will not be missed. I swear—"

"Mister Turner, I should inform you that Jonathon Brown was jailed for the attempted murder of a prostitute he'd been known to frequently patronize." Will stared at him in surprise, but Norrington's expression gave away none of his feelings on the matter.

"He... I'm afraid I don't know what to say." Will tried to let it sink in.

Norrington sipped his drink. He said, "Allow me a hypothetical. Say one of my men has recently earned his station as lieutenant. I find out through a discussion with this lieutenant that the captain he has been working under for some years has been misusing his power. The lieutenant reveals that he has approached me because his captain has extended his ill treatment to a young seaman with no apparent recourse. Although our military hierarchy affords certain benefits as one achieves a higher rank, I find the abuses committed by this captain unpardonable.

"While there are indeed matters of which we may find in ill taste to discuss, sometimes it is necessary to look the devil in the eye to be rid of the sin. The young Mister Brown has, since his imprisonment, been spoken of a great deal in gossip; I have had the dubious honor of hearing rather lurid rumors of which I have no doubt hold some truth. I say this, Mister Turner, to assure you that whatever your story, you need not feel pressed to reveal particular incidents to me. I also promise that I will make no assumptions about whatever your previous circumstances may have been. Simply, I don't find your private matters my business."

Will stood up and paced to the cabin's window to stare out at the wake left behind by the _Dauntless_' passing. The commodore had certainly caught him off guard; his mind continued to reel with the underlying implications of their discussion. However—

"I'm relieved Jonathon was seen to, but I'm afraid my apprehension remains." Will finished the last of his drink and fiddled with the empty glass. He glanced sidelong at the commodore. "If you are kind enough not to inquire into my qualms about Jonathon, I have hope you might not question me further about problems I have had with the man claimed to be my uncle. I wish to extricate myself entirely from the Browns, Commodore."

Norrington did not look surprised, expression still a mask of calm, although a glimmer of emotion lurked behind his eyes – something burning, like anger, and yet also remorseful. A long silence stretched between them, during which Will stubbornly focused at the rolling waves on the sea. He ached with the need to return to the familiar crew. He hadn't seen Ana for more than a week, since before breaking the curse. Of course, Jack topped the list of those he missed. Those days of peacefully enjoyed company felt an eternity away and the short period of bliss nothing more than the faint memory of a dream overshadowed by nightmares.

At long last the commodore replied. "It seems you have found a calling with the sea. When we make port I see no reason why I couldn't spare a few moments to find a civilian ship in need of an extra set of hands. I would ask for your testimony regarding our current prisoners, which I trust isn't too much to ask?" Will smiled and felt thankful that Norrington couldn't see him, else he be asked what the amusement was for. "And I believe my fiancé has been worrying about your condition."

Startled, Will turned back to the table and sat down. "You mean Elizabeth?" Well, who else would care to ask after his health?

Norrington looked rather satisfied with himself, the smugness much softened by genuine affection shining in his hazel eyes.

"I trust you can spare the time to assure Miss Swann you are alive and well?"

"Y-yes, of course." Will ran a hand over his hair, suddenly smiling. He could still feel the desire to find the _Pearl_ and its captain, but for the moment a pleasant feeling that things would work out dulled the heartache.

"And Will;" the commodore inclined his head when Will met his gaze. "In certain settings, titles seem awkwardly formal from the mouths of Elizabeth's friends."

-----

AnaMaria approached the shoreline of Port Royale in the early dawn light before most of the town awoke. The _Pearl_ would be back in the bay by nightfall and look for her signal – either to send along reinforcements or wait for her return.

The events of Isla de Muerta lay nearly three weeks behind them and the time had passed with a great deal of difficulty. AnaMaria refused to speak or listen to Jack for a week when she could finally admit that they'd had no option but to flee when the navy arrived. Even so, tempers shortened with half the crew worrying over what had happened to their enemies and, more importantly, their missing shipmate. The other half of the crew tended to be the victims of everyone else's anger due to their preoccupation foremost with the treasure waiting back at the hidden island.

Eventually they reached Port Royale with fresh supplies and found the _Dauntless_ and the _Interceptor_, looking a little worse the wear. AnaMaria had fought tooth-and-nail with Jack over going ashore alone to track down Will. Amazingly, reason eventually made Jack give in, something AnaMaria still didn't fully trust. As she hid the dinghy out of sight, she ran a careful eye over her surroundings, suspecting her captain to conspicuously swagger out at any moment.

No sign of Jack.

She double-checked that her hair remained in its bun under her hat and that the belt around her waist didn't make her shirt cling obviously to her womanly curves. Someone looking closely could probably tell her sex, but as a sailor in a port town she would easily pass as a young man and cause no one alarm.

_Alright. Let's see where yeh've gone to._ She climbed the stone wall along the beach to reach the port road and made her way into town.

-----

"I would really love for you to be around for the wedding," Elizabeth said for about the sixth time in half as many days. Will sighed at the woman linking elbows with him. "Is it really so much to ask? If you're so anxious for the sea, you could at least return in time."

"I don't know where I'll be in three months," Will said, a reiteration of his previous answers. "I swear I'll make the attempt, that's the best I can do."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes tolerantly. "Well just remember you've made that promise." She tugged on his arm and guided him toward a vendor's stall with crates of fruit. "Would you like anything?" she asked, unlinking her arm so that she could browse better.

"That's alright," he replied. He stepped aside as another woman approached.

It felt strange to walk the streets again after so many weeks at sea. He felt strangely claustrophobic with the amount of buildings surrounding him and solid ground beneath his feet. Most of the people around him wore tailored clothes that had significantly less signs of wear than those of pirates.

The market filled with people by mid-morning and Will had to move himself away from the most recent flow of people passing through the narrow corridor of vendors. As he turned to give room for a couple walking side-by-side, he felt his shoulder collide with someone's body.

"Please forgive—"

"Just look at yer face!"

Will stared speechlessly at the expression of concern and relief on AnaMaria's familiar face. She met his gaze and grinned. "Good to find yeh, Will. 'Ow do yeh feel?"

"Ana, I—" he paused and chuckled, delighted to realize that her presence meant the _Pearl_ had to be nearby. "God, it's good to see you." He clapped her shoulder and impulsively pulled her into a hug. Voice quieter, he said, "I wasn't sure how I would find you. Have you been well? How is Jack? Where is he?"

She laughed and pushed him back. Her eyes twinkled as she tucked a loose strand of hair under her hat. "Yeh'll see 'im soon. There's no livin' with the Cap'n when 'e's feelin' guilty."

"I understood..." Will explained, though he knew he couldn't completely hide that even though he understood the decision, the abandonment had hurt. Ana smiled encouragingly, a silent apology in her eyes.

"Will?" Elizabeth appeared nearby, a small basket of apples held in her arms. She looked over the stranger with a perplexed expression.

For a moment he didn't know what to say. Ana nodded her head in silent greeting but didn't speak. Elizabeth's anxious eyes convinced Will to tell her the truth.

"Elizabeth, this is AnaMaria. She's part of the crew I've recently sailed with." He touched Elizabeth's elbow in reassurance. She studied him a few moments, then nodded her head in silent understanding. Relieved, he continued, "I believe I'll be gone come morning."

"I suppose so." Elizabeth focused again on the pirate and shifted her basket so that she could shake Ana's hand. "It's good to know a woman can find a place at sea. I'm afraid I've only heard tales of such women before now."

Ana grinned. "Plen'y of us, though few enough to make yeh lucky to find us sailin' with yeh."

"I've always wanted to have an adventure," Elizabeth said, voice wistfully drifting towards daydreams. "Maybe— well, perhaps James will plan exciting travels." She grinned sheepishly, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. "Will, you'll try to make it back, right?"

Will glanced at Ana, then back to his childhood friend. "I did promise to try." Elizabeth's smile lost little of its sincerity, but he knew that she recognized he had already begun to make plans that would probably never lead him back to this port. "I will," he attempted, reaching to clasp her hand. "I'll see if I can come on my own without endangering the crew."

"I hope you will, I'd love to hear what you find." She blinked quickly and squeezed his hand in reassurance. "Can you spend the rest of the day with me? Tell me how it was James found you on the _Interceptor_." Her eyes glowed with excitement, probably because she now had sure evidence standing before her that he'd had a real adventure, full of pirates and all.

Ana chuckled and shooed the two of them away. "Go on. Be at the bridge to the docks by sunset, Will. Tell the lady wha' she wants." She leaned in to whisper, "Know of the _Black Pearl_, miss? And Cap'n Sparrow?"

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she gasped. "Oh, Will! You haven't!" She gripped his hand tightly. "Let's get back to the house, I want to hear _everything_!"

"I'll be on time," Will swore as he let Elizabeth drag him away. Ana's smile followed them as they wove through the crowded street.

-----

The sunset had been spectacular, although Jack barely took notice since the reds spreading across the water meant it was time to bring the _Pearl_ around. His fingers danced nervously over the smooth wooden rails of his beloved ship and searched the shoreline for Ana's signal.

"Thar'! She's got 'im." Gibbs grinned and clapped Jack on the back.

Jack fumbled for his spyglass and took a closer look at the navy-issue pantaloons Ana had run up one of the flagpoles at the docks. He grinned. In just a few moments he spotted Ana and his lover pushing out of the shallows and rowing towards... _Home_, he thought.

"Righ', lads! We've got two to come aboard!" Jack whirled around and waved at his crew to get to work. "Once we're loaded, I say we 'ead to claim our treasure. Wha' say you?" A chorus of cheers greeted the news. "Tha's right, 'oose the bes' Capt'n?"

"It'll be the prettiest bounty e'er hauled, Jack," Gibbs said appreciatively. "Will ye be takin' the helm?"

One hand waved the silly question aside. Jack went back to watching the silhouetted figures bobbing atop the waves. "Wha' kind a man do you think I am, Mister Gibbs?" Jack snorted, a devious grin spreading his lips. "Le' Ana take the wheel, she'll be 'appy to 'n _Pearl_ likes 'er."

"Aye, aye, Capt'n."

-----

To be completed

-----


	18. Eighteen Epilogue

Since people were having such big issues finding this, I'm giving in and just posting the last chapter. Thanks for reading!

Ocean Soul

**Part** 18 of 18

**By** Clarity Scifiroots

**Eighteen** – _In which there is no redeeming plot value_

The _Pearl's_ black sails bulged with the ample wind carrying her over the waves after a recent storm. Her dark wood gleamed with the rainwater slicked across her deck reflecting the light of a full moon peeking its way from between the clouds. In the captain's cabin, moonlight filtered through the windows and competed with candlelight to cast shadows.

Jack tugged the sheets away from Will's body and grinned. "Don't plan on hidin', luv," he teased, rolling over to prop himself over the other man. "I 'appen to like seein' you this way."

"Jack, didn't that storm wear you out – even a little?" Despite his words, Will reached his fingers into Jack's hair and shifted so that their bodies aligned.

"Not me, luv. Exhilarated." His gold teeth glinted in the dim light as he lowered his head to reach Will's collarbone. "Now, don't you feel a might grateful ol' Jack got you through?"

Will raised an eyebrow and considered the question. "Blackmail, Captain?"

"Pirate," came the reply. Jack nipped the side of Will's neck and smiled against the pale skin when he moaned softly. "Is why you love me." He licked his way up the pale column of flesh, then paid careful attention to Will's lips. When his lover gasped and rocked his hips upward, Jack nipped his way down the opposite site. He twirled strands of chestnut hair around his fingers and tugged gently.

Will's hands settled on Jack's shoulders and pushed insistently. "Jack, just—" he hissed a gasp between his teeth "—do that, that _thing_... Ah, your mouth."

Chuckling, Jack scooted down, taking great care to slide against his lover's body. "Found somethin' you like, luv?" The nip he gave Will's hip was just a tad sharper than the earlier ones; the hands on his shoulders moved to his hair and tugged. "Righ', you win, mate."

"Ja—Jesus!"

Jack pulled away from his lover's cock for a moment and snorted inelegantly. "William, is not nice to say the name of someone no' in yer bed."

Will pushed himself up on his elbows and glared at the grinning pirate. The look of irritation quickly washed away when Jack bent back to his task. Groaning, the younger man struggled to keep his eyes open and watch his flesh disappear between dark lips. The image had been burned into his memory the first time Jack had done this but could not compare to the actual experience. As Jack sucked him in further he had to bite his lip to keep from shouting. There was something alluringly filthy about the way Jack's cheeks hollowed and his tongue glided over turgid flesh.

Jack hummed and shattered any remnant of Will's control. His head fell back and he groaned. Sweat slid down his throat and traced straining muscles. He clutched at the sheets and bent his legs, digging his heels into the bedding. Jack slipped his arms under Will's thighs and pressed down on his hips.

Breath coming in pants, Will found it more and more difficult to resist the urge to pound into his lover's mouth. He felt fit to burst, an overwhelming heat surging through his veins until he couldn't hold back anymore. He clenched his teeth together to stifle his cry of completion.

Jack relinquished Will's cock only after a thorough inspection with his tongue. Will gazed at his lover through half-lidded eyes. The captain smiled smugly as he crawled toward the head of the bed.

"Alrigh', luv?" He hindered Will's answer by engaging him in a lengthy open-mouthed kiss. While the action didn't exactly help the former blacksmith catch his breath, he did manage to shrug off some of the pleasurable lethargy that had melted him. By the time Jack broke away, Will had set to work running his fingers mischievously over Jack's chest and ass. "No' nice to tease," Jack breathed, grunting as Will managed to catch him off-balance and bring their groins together.

"Maybe if you shut up for a few moments I could take care of you," Will said, moving one hand between Jack's shoulders and caressing his spine. He shimmied down so that he could lick Jack's sternum and aim for the scarred nipple he'd found to be exquisitely sensitive. His lover's body shivered under his touch.

A throaty groan-turned-growl escaped Jack's throat when a questing hand palmed his balls. Will's fingers circled the base of the cock, stroking long and slow. Jack's hands fisted in chestnut hair as Will worked up to a faster pace, keeping time by darting his tongue against the nipple bracketed by his lips.

"Christ, ye're a quick – _hell!_ – learner." Jack growled and jerked his hips more insistently. "C'mon, luv... 'ave some mercy. Righ'... keep doin'—Yes! Tha's just..." His litany tumbled to a halt as Will experimentally turned his wrist just so and bit the pebbled nipple at the same time. Jack's wordless yell made it clear that he had no qualms about letting the crew in on his sex life.

Will's breath escaped with an _oomph_ as Jack melted on top of him. "Hey," he said, voice muffled since Jack's chest blocked his mouth. He prodded Jack's side and tried speaking again. "Hey, roll over!"

"Wha'?" Jack turned onto his back and rolled his head towards Will, his lips pursed in a pout. "Am I so 'eavy you 'ave to complain?"

Rolling his eyes tolerantly, Will turned on his side. "I draw the line at flattening me."

"You jus' want me for me body," Jack accused.

"My favorite pillow," Will quipped, proving so as he moved his head onto Jack's shoulder. He threw an arm across his lover's chest and tugged himself closer. "Although it seems my pillow's a little lumpy." He nuzzled Jack's neck, laughing as the captain squirmed.

"Alrigh', luv," Jack said graciously; his arm snaked around Will's waist. His free hand went to Will's cheek and pushed aside the fall of sweaty hair. "Wha'ever you wan'."

Will lifted his head so that their eyes could meet. He kissed Jack's palm before replying, "You know, some day you might regret saying that."

Jack tapped Will's lips with a finger and shook his head. "No, luv," he said quite sincerely, "I don' think I'll be regrettin' a thing."

The End


	19. Epilogue Notes

**_Due to the adult nature of the epilogue, I will not post it on and then get in trouble. To read, please head to  
http:/community (dot) livejournal (dot) com / enmuse / series: ocean soul  
(copy/paste link in your browser - AND LEAVE SPACES) and find part 18/18. _You can also get to my fic site (Art of Life) from my profile page. Sorry, FFnet is so weird about hyperlinks. **

**Notes**:

Oh dear lord, is this really it? Am I done? Holy smokes! Mark the date! January 19, 2008 sees the end of this massive fic begun all the way back in August of 2003. Hell, I was still in high school when I started this sucker!

My writing style has changed significantly during the prolonged period this story was written. As such, when I've gone back to edit this at various times, the chapters have seen many a revised or snipped sentences. I'm sorry about how the accents change by the last chapters. I've changed how I think the characters speak, yet was more concerned about _finishing_ the story than struggling over reformatting dialogue. However, all of this is to say that I do indeed want to (someday) have a fully revised version of this fic. Will's character needs some work, and I know character development wise I'd like to do a better job with him, Jack, and even Ana. The beginning feels weak to me, and I think many of you will agree.

In any case, I want to thank everyone who has spent the time to read these many chapters. I particularly am grateful to those of you who have stuck with me through the years! Ceria Taliesan, I found an e-mail from you about this story from _way_ back in the day.

I hope you have enjoyed this tale! Please let me know what you think. I do take into consideration what my readers say, so I'd love the feedback. Best wishes! Clarity Scifiroots

P.S. I just realized as I signed my name that I'm not sure what screen name I had when I began this story! Yeesh, that makes this feel even more dated.

P.P.S. Thank you _everyone_ for the passionate support over the years. You've really encouraged me to keep going.


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